Mortality
by Charles P. Addams
Summary: High-schooler Bella Swan doesn't expect life to change much when she moves from sunny Arizona to rainy Washington. Then she meets Edward Cullen, a shy but musical classmate, with skin like ice and eyes that pierce her very soul. They hit off quickly, and Bella finds herself thrown into a world where humans are nothing but prey. (Fully edited final product)
1. Preface

_"For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one." Kahlil Gibran.  
Before now, how I would die was a long ways off. Accident, old age, suicide — all viable options at the time. But I never expected this, to be giving up my own life, thinking I'd be saving another, only to learn how … pointless it all is. How pointless my sacrifice is. And, weirdly, I'm okay with that._

I watch without breathing across the long room, my eyes narrow and my teeth grinding. I stare into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looks back at me with a pleasant grin. Though shaken, I raise my hands defensively. I am not ready to face this foe. To face the claws and teeth shimmering in the fluorescent lights. But what choice do I have?

As of now, it's either him or me.

This never would have happened if I stayed with my mom, if I had never even looked in the direction of Forks. I'd be safe. Not facing death. But as terrified as I feel, I can't bring myself to regret every choice that has led to this.

The hunter smiles in a friendly way as he saunters forward to kill me.


	2. Unnatural Shade

Windows down, my mother and I cruise through the blistering Phoenix sun. I watch the perfect, cloudless blue sky with a wry smile and a heavy heart. I already miss the sun, the heat. I look at the hooded flannel on my lap, my fingers lightly tracing over the edge of my sleeveless t-shirt. I bid my freckled arms farewell, clutching the green and gray cover to my chest. My only other carry-on is my phone and earbuds. I face northward, to my distant destination.

All the way in Washington state, a town named Forks exists, protected by a thick covering of clouds and rain. When I was a baby, my mother escaped from its oppressive shade, though she sent me back every summer for 14 years. I stopped visiting the north between fifteen and now, content to see my dad over Skype instead. Looking back on it, I think I hurt really him doing that.

It is to Forks that I now exile myself — an action that I take with a lump in my throat and fear creating little tooth marks on my lower lip. I'm so used to the heat and sun of Phoenix, the idea of a day where sixty degrees is considered _warm_ sends a shiver down my spine.

I'd better get used to shivering.

"Bella," my mom, Renee, says putting her little car into park, "I'm going to say this again; you _don't_ have to go. Especially when you're so close to finishing high school."

I face Renee, my doppelganger in all ways but hair length, with a weak smile. There's a small spasm in my chest at the sight of her wide, childlike blue eyes. It's cruel of me to leave her. My erratic, harebrained mother. How can she fend for herself out there? I consider accepting her offer right as logic cuts in. She's married, has Phil. She'll have food, gas, and someone to call when she needs a shoulder.

Renee doesn't _need_ me, not like she used to.

"Mom, I _want_ to do this," I lie, pushing my glasses up my nose. "You know I hate traveling so often, and this way I can focus on completing school." And you won't be stuck in Phoenix while your husband goes on the adventure you crave. She looks visibly relieved at that, her hands even reaching to tie her long hair back.

"Alright. This is just ... sudden. I'm going to miss my little dancer." I mentally cringe at the nickname. I haven't danced in _years_. I want to remind her. But I don't. I let her win this round.

"I'm going to miss you too, Mom. I'd better get in there before the plane abandons me. I love you."

"I love you too. Text when you get to your dad's house!"

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour's drive back down to Forks. I spend the entire time blasting music that varies from Disney to grunge and back to pop, my hands scribbling in my little notebook about everything I see out the window. It's a little dizzying, but it keeps me from thinking about the hour I'll traverse with my dad. I'm dreading it.

Charlie—that's my dad–-is a sweet, friendly fellow, and has been really nice about the whole situation, even seeming genuinely excited for me to move in with him. But after three years just talking over the computer, things are bound to be awkward between us. Neither of us are very talkative to begin with. Knowing this makes me wonder if we'd even have something to connect over.

I ... don't know my father.

We land in Port Angeles to a light sprinkle of water, thunder far off in the distance. I pull the hood up on my flannel and take my bags, eyes scanning the parking lot for a car or truck with Charlie beside it.

Charlie is waiting for me beside his cruiser. I cringe internally, but approach as fast as I can manage. I don't like all the eyes turned in our direction. I don't like how everyone can see Charlie's police uniform, or his doors that label him as the chief, the head guy. I make a mental note to find used cars to buy while I toss my bags in the back seat.

Charlie gives me an awkward one-armed hug to my surprise. I jump in my skin, but return it with a smile. I feel his rough cheek against my temple when he kisses me.

"It's good to see you, Bells. You're shorter than I remember."

"Oh, shut up." I playfully hit Charlie's shoulder, and we slide into the cruiser. "It's good to see you too, Dad." I don't call him Charlie to his face, I'm not allowed. The word 'Dad' leaves a weird taste in my mouth. This is going to be an adjustment.

"I've got some news. Do you remember Billy Black any?"

"Billy..." I chew my lip, searching my memories for any mention of him. I can see a beach, a tall man with long black hair and a warm smile. And a gaggle of little girls by his side. I grin and nod my head. "From La Push, right?"

"Yeah! He and I would go fishing, you and his young'uns would play in the sand. Well, as of a few years back, ole Billy is wheelchair bound. Meaning his Chevy is for sale. It's an old truck, yeah, but it's got a good body and runs fine."

"How old is old, Dad? I don't know if I can afford to fix it after I buy."

Charlie's cheek quirks, his brow raising. "_You_ buy?"

"I've been saving to get myself a car ... I've got about $1,500 set aside for it."

"Ahh. Well, the truck is old enough to be your grandpa." Oh no... "And you can use your money to buy some clothes. Two cases?" He glances in the rearview mirror. "One felt a little too heavy to be clothing."

"That would be my books ... I think I have enough to wear, Dad."

"You're going to need more than one jacket, a few pairs of jeans, and some button-downs, Bells."

"Yeah, oka ..." _Click_. "Wait, why don't I need to pay for the Chevy?"

"Because I already did!" He beams with pride, as much as one can beam without a smile playing on their lips. "Billy should be dropping it with his youngest about the time we get home."

"You're serious? Oh my God! Dad, thank you," I gawk and laugh, still in awe that Charlie had even considered buying something so extravagant for me. And yes, a potential rust bucket is _extravagant_ in the Charlie Swan dictionary.

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbles before returning focus on the road. Seems he's embarrassed by my thanks. A few more comments are exchanged, about the wet weather mostly, and we fall into a comfortable silence. I glance around my new surroundings in wide-eyed fear.

It's too green — an alien planet.

It's beautiful. The trees blending together, a living watercolor, with the occasional shock of brown trunk bodies and shift of peaking sunlight to brighten the topmost foliage. The more I look, the closer to Forks I become, the less vibrant the green is. A light blue film lays over the world, including my shirt and Charlie's gray uniform. I don't remember this part of my visits. I stare at my hands, mouth agape. This ... this isn't natural.

We pull up to the small, two-story house Charlie had bought with my mother 19 years ago. The early days, the _only_ days, of their marriage were spent in this weirdly green-tinted yellow house. There, with a long, lanky body leaned against it, is my new truck. I don't let Charlie put it in park before I hop out the door to examine it.

Lucky for me, the body against the truck isn't still, and with a cry from us both they prevent me from face planting beside the tires.

"You know, my dad said you may fall for me, but I didn't think it'd be literally." I brush myself off, ignoring the stranger's words so I can focus on my truck.

Faded red, with rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. It's much older than I imagined, and seeing the massive dents in the bed's side should make me wary, but I can't help but love this thing. The Thing. I rap on the metal, solid iron, and grin wickedly.

"I could destroy so much in this thing..."

"Ha!" The girl cackles, holding her stomach. "I like you already. I'm Julie," she extends her hand. "Julie Black. I haven't seen you in forever, Bella."

"Likewise." I shake her hand, craning my neck up to see her face. Soft cheeks, dark yet bright eyes, and a bit of acne tell me all I need to know about this pubescent Quileute. She is a wee baby. "You're a lot taller than I remember."

"I'm amazed you remember me at all." She rolls her eyes, tightening her ponytail. "What's up, Chief Swan?" Julie looks over my head, waving.

"You didn't drive here alone, did you, Jules?" Charlie inquires with a knowing tilt of his head. "You know that's illegal, you're only 15."

"If you didn't witness it, you can't bust me, old man."

"Yeah, yeah." He carries my two bags inside, shaking his head. "I'll drive you home once Bella gets in here. Take your time, hon."

"Thanks, Dad!" Julie and I chuckle to ourselves while Charlie kicks the front door open, amusement peeking out from under his authoritative face. "So, 15? Will I be seeing you in the hallways?"

"Nah, I go to school on the reservation." Julie stands straight, a full head higher than me. "I just came out to drop this thing off and pick up some meds for my dad. Which I already have," she shakes a CVS bag in her hand, "so I'll head home once the chief returns."

"Ah man, just when I thought I'd know someone, too."

"Don't worry your pretty little head, I'll be visiting plenty with Dad. He and Charlie spend almost every Saturday together. It's almost romantic."

"Cute," I turn to Charlie, who has joined us outside, and smirk. "I'll get unpacked, Dad. See you around, Julie!"

"See you, Bella!"

"I regret letting you two meet..." Charlie says right as I close the front door with a laugh.

It took a few seconds to get my ass upstairs. My bedroom faces west, looking out over the front yard. It's familiar, considering it's been mine since I was born. I slide over the wooden floor on my socks, eyes glossing over the blue walls and moth-eaten lace curtains around the window. Pieces of my childhood, worn with time. There are a few differences from the past; a daybed pressed lovingly against the wall to my right, pillows sprinkled about the purple blanket. I unpack my two cases, setting what few clothes I brought in the pine dresser, my laptop on the desk that is definitely second hand, and my books on the small shelf that doubles as a nightstand.

I go to the armchair still tucked away in the corner and flop, pushing my glasses far up my face so I don't have to look at my situation. It's nice to be alone, even if it's just until he drops Julie off at La Push. A relief to stare dejected at the ceiling, listen to the sheeting rain, and let a few tears escape. There's no 'when' anymore, and tomorrow I'll face the one thing I never mentally prepared for.

Forks High School has a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven—now fifty-eight—students. Students that have known each other since pre-k. Whose families have been together for generations past. My class in Phoenix had over seven hundred kids, and I barely knew five of them.

How will the people here see me, the new girl from the big city? Would I be a curiosity? A _freak_? They're probably expecting a tall, tanned blonde with lean muscle from volleyball or cheerleading — everything that goes with living in the Valley of the Sun.

I stand and trudge to the bathroom, intending to tuck my few necessities in the vanity and shower caddy, my second pair of eyes falling to their place on the bridge of my nose. As I pass the dirty mirror, I can't help but stare. I touch my round, pale cheek, a stark contrast to my dark hair and eyes. I don't know if it's the light or just my mind showing me a sallow, ghastly skin. What sunburn and freckles I do have are already fading away, melting into the cold, blue haze that covers everything in this town.

The evening goes by in a muddy rush as my brain goes over the disaster that no doubt awaits me in the morning. New people with old friends. There won't be room for me, not that I have a chance at finding my clique, anyway. I've _never_ had a knack for "fitting in" with other people my age. I've narrowed the reason down to me. Being overlooked while reading a book in some far-off corner of the school. Not getting the attention of any other student because they never thought I was worth it — or at least, that's how it seemed.

Maybe there's a glitch in my brain.

Before I can make it back to my room, Charlie calls me down for dinner. Going down the stairs, a warm and savory scent hits my nose. I peek into the kitchen, laughing when I see him plating lasagna for us both at the small table. I grab some cherry soda out of the fridge, not noticing that my favorite drink — canned iced coffee — is already on the bottom shelf. I switch drinks and rattle the can.

"You went all out, didn't you? Last time you cooked for me, it was coal black." He laughs, playfully flicking the bird. "You know I'm right."

"Yes, I remember that night. We both had food poisoning. But, after you went home, I figured it would be wise to take some cooking classes. And watch the food channel from time-to-time." I walk over and peck Charlie on the cheek. "Hey now, no need to get mushy."

"I'm just proud of you, Dad. And here Mom told me you'd be helpless and would need me to cook. I have plenty of experience from back home, you know." He pauses for a split moment and shakes something off his shoulder.

"Yeah, and that is what I've been trying to prevent. You're my kid, you ain't cooking for me. Charles Swan isn't helpless and don't let no one tell you otherwise. Now, sit down and eat your food. It's made special. Meat-free, double cheese."

It's well past midnight when I finally drift off to sleep, able to muffle the pounding of the rain under my thick pillows. It comes like it always does; slowly, starting at my toes and making its way to my brain at a crawl. Then its fingers lace around my neck, clawing at my veins, and pull me under.

In my sleep, I'm haunted by bright, pulsing red eyes. A feathery touch, hands around my wrists, at my throat. Freezing lips at my neck, laughing, mocking me. And… a whisper.

"_You're mine..._"

Breakfast with Charlie is fairly quiet. We munch on the eggs he made, and he a plate of bacon, his nose deep in the newspaper while I stare at the temperature gauge in horror. I remember how I felt in Arizona. When 60 was the lowest measured temperature for most of winter. I would shiver so hard my teeth clattered. It's in the middle of winter, deep into January, and the high is still under freezing.

After a few minutes of gathering his keys and gun, Charlie pecks my cheek and wishes me a good day. He didn't leave much for me to clean up, so I hurry up the stairs to get dressed.

When the time to leave hits, I speed through the drizzle and hop inside The Thing. Nice and dry, with plenty of space for my bulky backpack. I turn the engine and check the radio clock. If I had just thought, I could play a CD on my ride to school. But at least the radio itself works. I blast the local rock station and back out of the drive.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, despite never being there before. Like the other major buildings, it is just off the highway and had the most obvious WELCOME sign on the entire road. **Forks High School** in massive red letters that are both eye-catching and ominous. The campus is strange, appearing more like a line of cloned houses with old brick than an actual school. It doesn't have the same feel as an institution, feeling isolated with the endless green of the forest encasing it. But one thing that makes me like it better than my old school is the total lack of fences and metal detectors. Phoenix's paranoia always had me on edge.

I park in front of the first building I see, the lot empty. I figure it's either for the staff or completely off-limits. Still, the door says Front Office. Better to run in, get directions, and run out than to wander the school like a lost puppy. Carefully, I step out of the truck cab and have to catch myself on the door, my sneakers slipping from the sidestep, almost sending me to the pavement. On the plus side, no one is around to see that... I gather myself up and start toward the door. Taking off my hood, I get a look around the office. It's small, bright, and has the faint smell of nail polish remover. The only sounds are the ticking of the clock and the click of someone's fingernails on a keyboard. I approach the desk, a rather plump woman with dyed red hair looking up at me with a maternal smile.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, yes. I'm Isabella Swan, I start today," I'm taken back by the awareness that fills her eyes at the mention of my name. There doesn't seem to be many Swans in the area. Goodbye to any form of anonymity I was hoping for...

I stay in the school's warm office longer than I intend to, stuck in endless chatter. The secretary, a plump woman with a terrible red dye job, explains my schedule and shows me the best routes around the strangely scattered complex with a chipper voice. I cringe at every "Isabella", but there isn't much I can do about that. Not everyone needs to know my preference, especially people I don't want to get close to.

"Now, you have a _wonderful_ first day, and come back if you need any help. Okay, Isabella?"

"Y-yes, thank you. Bye." I take the papers in my hand and head back into the rain, my head low. People have already arrived, despite school not starting for another half hour. To my relief, I blend in pretty well with everyone — heavy parka and hair hidden in the hood was a smart move this morning. By the time I get back to the Thing, it seems the entire school has filled in. The large population of older vehicles fills me with an odd sense of comradery.

Yes, these are my people. Those of shitty gas mileage and cabs that smell like mildew.

I drive around the school, filling into the traffic line until I'm led to an empty spot in Student Parking and cut the engine, ignoring the glares from tired students as it startles them awake by how loud The Thing is. Before I even think about getting out, I examine the map, trying to memorize it. The last thing I want is to have my nose in it all day. But for good measure, I tuck it in my front pocket. Pulling the bag with me, I carefully slipping from the cab of the truck. I inhale and let myself calm. I can do this, it's just school. Not like anyone is going to bite me, right? I pull up my hood and melt into the crowd of teenagers.

I focus my attention on the parking lot, counting the rust buckets that look to be in worse shape than mine ever could be, pride boosting my step with every number. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen ... hang on... I stop in my tracks, standing off to the side of the walkway so others can move around me. This one stands out, locking my eyes on it. It's silver, and while I can't see the make, it is a lot newer than the other student vehicles around it. In near perfect condition, too.

"Must be a rich kid," I snicker to myself, now looking for my destination.

I manage my way to the cafeteria, building three right in front of me with its garish bright yellow "THREE" in large letters at the east corner. My breathing quickens as I approach the door, nerves really starting to get to me. Everything that could go wrong flashes before my eyes. I could fall in front of the class, stammer my name out. Hell, I could knock someone over!

I shake the thoughts from my head and follow two black raincoats into the building, making myself as small as possible. The three of us part ways a few feet in, I head to the right and them to the left. The classroom — my homeroom and English class — is small, somewhat dim, and crowded by people hanging around the coat rack. I copy two girls who are hanging their coats up in front of me and head to the teacher.

The tall, balding man with bad acne and a name tag that identifies him as "Mr. Jameson" rips my student slip from my hands without care. Then he perks up, looking at me in surprise. He gawks for a moment and then signs it, files it, and points me to the one empty desk in the corner. Knowing my face is cherry red, I count my blessings for the lack of forced introduction and go straight to my seat.

I take out my school notebook and my small notebook, opening both to an empty page. I can feel the eyes of my classmates on the top of my head. Once my butt hits the seat I curl up, knees on my chest, and examine the list of required reading. As expected,: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer ... I've already read most what he's assigned to me. All I need to do is go over the notes I'd taken already. If an essay assignment comes up, I'll just change an old one! Or would that be cheating? Would they even know?

I zone out from his lecture, opting to pull my small notebook over the larger one and chronicle everything I see, and every name I hear the other students whisper.

The bell rings me back to reality, and I see a thin, gangly boy with black hair lean across the aisle to my desk. His smile is friendly enough, but the sudden movement catches the attention of everyone within four feet of us. I gather my things, looking down at my desk. I know it's rude, but a random boy wanting to talk to me isn't something I'm comfortable with.

"You're new, right? I haven't seen you around before."

"Yeah, I am. Bella Swan," I extend my hand, and he shakes it with gusto. "Nice to meet you."

"Oh, you must be Chief Swan's kid!" He shakes his head like it's obvious — which it is — and chuckles. "No wonder Mr. Jameson didn't bother introducing you. I'm Eric, by the way. Eric Yorkie. So, where are you headed?"

"Government, building six. Why, you going to show me around?" I pull my bag onto my shoulder, reveling in his expression. "Don't act so surprised, there's no other reason to approach the new kid in school."

" ... that's a fair point. And yeah, if you need. My next class is in four, so it wouldn't be much of a detour."

"I'd appreciate it, Eric. This place is laid out so damn weird."

"Tell me about it," he shakes his head. We grab our jackets, and he stops me from putting mine on like normal. "Like a shield. Trust me, you'll want more protection than just the hood." Eric demonstrates and leads us through the rain to the even-numbered buildings across the courtyard. I cling to his backpack to keep from getting lost. We practically kick the doors to building six down once it's in sight. Eric laughs and musses his already disheveled hair.

"Ah, I love the cool breeze. Wakes you up."

"I don't think I've seen this much rain in my entire life." I pull my hood down, spotting my next classroom from the entryway. "I grew up in Phoenix. It rains maybe four times a year max." Eric's eyes grow huge.

"Wow, I can't even imagine what that would be like."

"On the bright side, we get plenty of sun," I answer honestly. Eric squints, looking me over. "What?"

"Seems it missed you completely, Bella." He chuckles, his entire face crunching together. I have to roll my eyes, though I laugh too. "SPF 100, I guess?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I've always been prone to burning." He halts and motions to the door. "Oh, we're here."

"Yep. And with that, I wish you luck. I gotta hurry before Mrs. Unger counts me as tardy. See you around, _Arizona_!" He winks, turning on his heels and waving as he runs to his building. I smile and return the wave. He isn't so bad, really. Just ... excitable.

I shake my head and go to the next room.

The rest of the morning passes quickly. My Trig teacher, Mr. Varner, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. It doesn't take long for me to hate the class and teacher, though truth be told I hated him based on subject alone before I even met the guy. But after ten minutes of stammering out my favorite books and hobbies ... which no one cares about ... I'm ready for murder.

After two classes, I recognize a few of the faces. Not so much their names, mostly because they don't come up to talk to me. Well, except for one person...

This tiny girl I share both Trig and Spanish with, with beautiful chestnut curls and doe eyes. Jessica Stanley, the perky girl up to my shoulders, can fill my silence with every bit of gossip and know-how about Forks High School during the walk to the cafeteria. I can't keep up with her, but she doesn't mind. She keeps our hands clasped together, her treble voice the only one I can focus on, and almost drags me to what she dubs the "usual table". Slowly it fills.

Jessica introduces me to all of them, but goes so fast I'm barely able to hold on to the names. Eric, however, I know right away. Everyone's eyes lock on me just long enough for my anxiety level to churn my stomach. One girl, a head higher than us all, changes the conversation to summer vacation. I'm finally able to pull out my little notebook, humming and doodling absently.

A massive temperature drop sends a shiver down my spine, pulling my attention a few tables away. My eyes widen as I look at them. I want to write what I see, but my hands aren't able to move.

They sit in the corner, in direct sight of my table. There are five of them. Not talking, barely eating, staring in different directions. Their clothes are neat, in muted colors, and they appear well off. But none of these things draws me to them.

There are three boys. One is dark-skinned, with long dreadlocks. He towers over the others, a natural hulk with a wide smile and no doubt a laugh that could warm anyone's heart. His clothing softens his appearance and covers his arms completely. Even in the few seconds I look at him, he tugs his sleeves down slightly, keeping it just along the bottom of his palms.  
The second boy looks to have a natural tan, and honey hair that _might_ be dyed because of the warm, brown roots. He wears baggy clothing that only makes me wonder how his body is built. I mentally slap myself for imagining that. His face is cloaked by the soft waves of his hair, and I can barely make out the scruff of a rough beard.

The last boy is the shortest of them, with messy hair that shines like a copper flame in the muted indoor light. His body is thin, but not to any extreme, and there's something about his angular face that seems ... almost ill. He has over-ear headphones on, his eyes closed and mouth moving to unheard lyrics. In total bliss.

The girls are exact opposites. The tall one is statuesque, with a figure to combat the likes of Audrey Hepburn. If she wasn't sitting there, I would swear she jumped off a highly edited magazine cover. I take her as proof that perfection exists. Her hair is golden, reaching down the middle of her back, with a slight pink glimmer to it. The short girl is pixie-like, with androgynous but strong features, her black hair shaved down to the scalp, her pie-eyes staring into space like she's engaged in a contest with a ghost.

So different, yet exactly the same. The ones with light skin appear almost luminescent, the one with dark skin has an oddly blue tint to his skin. And their eyes ... I have no clue if the red-haired boy matches, but the four I see have solid black eyes, like a shark. And they look exhausted, bruise-like circles surrounding the sharp whites of their eyes. Like they've been awake every night for the past 17 or 18 years. And so inhumanly designed. The very air around them draws you in, and I can only imagine their voices are like a song.

They're _beautiful_. They're **terrifying**.

My curiosity fills to the brim.

"Who are they?" I ask Jessica, my mind swimming. She looks over to see who I mean, though considering my tone and lack of local knowledge, I'm pretty amazed that she even has to look. I follow her gaze, locking eyes with the red-haired boy. We stare at each other for a solid second, his head tilting. I feel a buzz in my skull that makes me flinch, and his eyes widen in surprise. He turns away before I can fully register the movement. Deeply unsettling. I look at my tater-tot loaded tray, Jessica giggling in my right ear.

"That would be the Cullen Clan. Well, so we call them. Only two of them are Cullens. You've got Emmett, the tall one with the dreads. Then there's Alice Cullen, the small one who looks like a 12-year-old, and the Hale twins — Rosalie and Jasper. I think they're Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's foster kids." She whispers so softy I have to lean in to understand her. It's like she expects them to just appear out of the air.

"Rosalie and Emmett seem close," I mutter, a stupid pang of envy striking my chest.

"Oh! That's because they're a couple. Like, live together and everything. Uh ... hey Eric, what's Emmett's last name again?"

"How should I know?" Eric protests through a mouth full of burger.

"You guys take the same chemistry class!"

"Doesn't mean I pay attention to him." He swallows the bite. "What I do know is the guy is a total joker, but smart as hell. Half the time he finishes the work before I get done with the first question."

He goes off on a tangent with how he wishes Emmett would tutor him in that class, but I focus on Emmett's name. Matter of fact, all of them have uncommon names. Or, well, unpopular ones. They sound like they belong to grandparents rather than teenagers. Though none of them really _look_ like teens. I don't dare turn around to double-check that analysis. If the redhead is looking over here again...

"It kind of sucks that Dr. and Mrs. Cullen can't have their own kids, but hey, at least they get a chance to have a family." Jessica smiles at that, leaning on her hand. "I don't know how long they've had Alice, but she is super nice. Alice always helps with the dances, so does Rosalie. Really, the only one that doesn't socialize at all is _Edward_." She says his name with such venom it makes me jump.

"Uh ... wh-which is Edward?" I look back at them, meeting eyes with the red-haired one at the same moment. His face mirrors mine in curiosity, and even a pinch of confusion. Like I fail to meet some expectation of his. The buzzing returns to my head and I tear myself away with a groan. I don't like this... Jessica's finger crosses my vision and it leads me right to the same boy, who is — thankfully — not looking over here anymore.

"_That's_ Edward, the doctor's little brother. How weird would it be to go to school with your _uncle_?"

"They're all ... very nice looking." I can't bring myself to say what I mean. Beautiful. Breathtaking. Angelic. _Unnatural_.

"Oh, definitely. But I wouldn't bother trying to mingle. Other than Emmett and Alice, they don't talk much. Especially not Edward. Arrogant asshole won't even look at people when they speak to him." Jessica huffs, shaking her head. "At least Jasper will nod or make a grunt, but Edward? Nothing. It's like no one exists but him."

"You're sure it's not something else entirely? I mean, maybe he's just shy."

"Oh please, Bella! A guy that hot being shy? You're out of your mind." And just like that, she changes the subject. To avoid any more awkwardness, I join in, chuckling and talking about homework and the building arrangements. The Cullens keep appearing in my mind, bordering on obsessively. After a while, the five leave the table en masse. Their movements are too fluid, too well-timed. The one called Edward makes one last glance at me before vanishing from sight. My gut churns, it wants me to avoid them. I doubt I'll listen.

When we enter the next classroom, a girl from the table named Angela tells me to wait for the teacher in front.

"I-I'm sorry, Bella," the Amazon in pastel stammers, looking at her feet. "He's super weird about seating people." She shuffles in place, and I reach up to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. Angela looks at my hand, then at me, her dark hair tickling my knuckles.

"Don't worry about it. You just sit, I'll be fine." Angela nods and sits beside her partner, a blonde boy with gelled hair. A familiar boy with gelled hair. One that sat and stared and me and Jessica during lunch, but never bothered with an introduction. How rude.

I lean against the whiteboard while I wait for the teacher and look around, noticing all but one person has a partner. Next to the center aisle, I recognize Edward Cullen and his unnatural features, headphones still covering his ears. The teacher lays a hand on my shoulder and says my name. From my peripheral vision, I see Edward snap to look at me. His face morphs into something terrifying — and is gone in a flash.

I suddenly hate this class.

My brain buzzes like a hive of a million panicked hornets. Mr. Molina, as he introduces himself straight off, hands me my books and points me to the single empty seat. My head is too foggy for me to ask to work with no one. I walk down the center, almost trembling, to my seat. I pull the chair as far away from him as I can and sit, pulling out my science notebook and little book. I greet him without turning, but my eyes disobey my order not to look.

His eyes are a dead, deep, inescapable void. I shiver and open my little notebook, scribbling my observation down and closing it. I see the Cullen boy shift, leaning away from me, scooting to the very edge of his chair and facing the window like something smells foul. It doesn't take a Sherlockian level of deduction to realize something about me disgusts him.

I let my hair block him from view, making a dark curtain between us. I turn my ears to Mr. Molina's lecture, writing every important detail on cellular reproduction that I can pick up. I realize a few minutes in that I studied this already in Phoenix. God, did we just go at a lightning rate out there? I slide my little notebook over and open it just enough to write in. I write my day down in it, putting in every little detail and descriptor to make it as vivid as a photograph.

And try as I may, I can't stop myself from peeking through my screen of hair at the boy next to me. Slowly, but surely, his upper body relaxes. He even sits at the center of the stool after fifteen minutes. But his hand remains clenched at his thigh, veins bulging an eerie bright blue under his ghastly skin. If you didn't see the insignificant details, you would think he is just another bored student. I swallow and hope that I'm new enough to exchange science classes.

Though taking the same time as the others, my first Biology lecture feels like it will never end. I try to convince myself I just want to get home, but my locked focus on the overly tense figure next to me proves I'm lying. He never fully relaxes. He's solid as a statue. I don't even think he's breathing. Is this how he always is? This can't be normal! I hesitate a glance over at him, facing him. The glare that I meet pulls the breath out of my lungs, turns my blood to ice.

At that moment the bell rings loudly, and Edward Cullen is out of his seat. Towering over me, he is away from the desk and out of the classroom door before the sound of the bell has fully registered with anyone.

I gather my things, grumbling under my breath about how arrogant he must be. I have to sit for a moment and breathe. I don't want to cry, and the tears in my eyes threaten to fall. I tuck my little notebook in my pocket and stand.

"Hey, Bella!" I turn, Angela and her lab partner approach me with friendly grins. "This is Mike Newton, he's from California."

"No way?" I chuckle, taking his offer for a handshake. "I used to vacation there as a kid."

"Oh, sweet!" Mike says in an overly excited volume of voice. Maybe it's his hair, maybe it's his impression, but this guy reminds me too much of a Golden Retriever. "It's good to meet you, Bella. I'm on my way to gym class. What about you?"

"Same here," I say, cringing. "I'm not looking forward to it."

"Eh, no one likes it. Chances are it'll be volleyball for the millionth time. Just try to get hit, you'll be fine. C'mon, Coach Clapp makes late people run suicides instead." I nod and follow him and Angela, losing her about halfway down the hall. So far, he's been quiet, but once she's gone, he supplies most of the conversation. He's oddly relatable. He moved out of California at ten, missing the sun just as much as I do. Turns out, he's in my English class too, but he had to talk to the teacher about the reading.

"I've done most of it already if you need help, Mike." I offer, pulling the list from my binder. "You can go over my old notes, I'll even let you copy them in your own words. Easier to understand that way."

"Seriously? Wow, thanks, Bella. Were they part of your old school?"

"Yeah, we went fast for some Godforsaken reason. Though a lot of what we read, like the works of Chaucer and Shakespeare, were good enough for me to buy copies just for pleasure."

"Not exactly my idea of a good time, but I get that."

As we enter the gym, he asks, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil? I've never seen him act like that." I cringe, especially at his emphasis on his behavior. "Edward's never been a social butterfly, but he's not hostile either. Just ... weird."

"He's really never acted like that before?"

"Not that I can remember. He looked like he was in pain or something."

"I don't know why, honestly. I never even spoke to him..."

"That's just freaky," Mike lingers with me a bit, confusion on his face. "If I'd been next to you, I probably would have talked your ear off." We both laugh. He departs when I enter the girl's locker room. I think about Mike's words as I wait for the coach to bring me my gym clothes.

Coach Clapp gives me my uniform, but tells me I don't have to play today. She explains that they're in the middle of a match and it's gotten heated, so if I want to I can either watch or take a study period. Without hesitating, I ask for a library pass and rush my way to the lone building.

I settle at a corner table, away from the other students. I pull out my iPod and little notebook, playing soft music as I take my thoughts from today and turn them into proper prose. I know it's stupid to write my day out like this, or so my old friends thought, but it's good practice. I write in my messy pen, stopping full force when I get to the Cullen clan. I list their qualities, tearing that page out once I finish it.

I start a second list, with _Edward's n_ame at the top of the page. I list his features and behavior, making a note that this isn't normal for him and ... the odd buzzing that happens when he's around. It makes my head itch and my eyes fog. As I write, I hum along with the song, not noticing when another person appears across from me. I look up, jolting from my skin as Edward Cullen motions for me to take out my earbuds.

"C-can I help you?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

"I would like to ... apologize. For how I acted, so ... I'm sorry, Miss Swan. I ... you ... good luck with whatever that is." He stammers, motioning to my notes, and turns on his toes, disappearing as quickly as he appeared.

The last bell rings. I slowly make my way through the crowds with homework in tow, using the scenery to take my mind off all the weirdness of today. The air is lighter, much colder. My breath appears in front of me like smoke. Everything around me appears metallic from the sheen of water. Before I realize it, I'm opening the door to the Thing, warmth embracing me like an old friend. Like a second home in this strange, unusually blue hole.

I check to be sure I'm the only person within ten feet before covering my mouth with my backpack and letting out a scream. All the bottled-up energy makes the truck shake. I huff a couple times before being torn from my panic by a cellphone buzz. It's a text from Renee. I grit my teeth and open it.

"How did your first day go, my little dancer?"

I remove my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose. Oh, dear lord, how do I answer that? 


	3. Curiosity

When I wake up for the second day of school, the first thing I notice is the absence of sound. I sit up and squint at the blurry window. It's still gray outside, meaning I'll wear a hoodie or jacket just in case, but the lack of rain is enough to give me a small boost. I trudge over to the single bathroom, warning Charlie not to use water or I'll kill him, and take a quick shower.

Something about this day feels better than yesterday, and as I brush the knots out of my hair, I wonder just why that is. I mean, weather aside, it seems to be a typical day in Forks. Maybe it's because I have new people to talk to, and I know what to expect. That is quite the weight off my shoulders, come to think of it.

I shake my head and turn the water off. I can't risk lulling myself into a routine so soon. You never know when things are likely to change. A shock of cold water sends a scream out of my mouth, hammering the point in.

Mr. Jameson has written on the board our task of the day. Read over Macbeth and take notes. It can be silent, or group work. I'm not really given that choice, as both Eric and Mike crowd around my desk, begging for help. Mike even goes the extra mile with a puppy pout.

I pull out my old notebook and adjust my glasses. This is going to be fun.

It takes about fifteen minutes of careful explaining for Eric to understand the simplicity of Shakespeare's apparent complex phrasing. Matter of fact, he's helping me explain by the time Mike's face meets his palms with a light slap.

"I don't understand what they're saying!" He groans and lays his head down on his desk. "The language is too damn old, how can anyone read this?"

"This was the language of the common people, actually," I say, leaning over and transcribing the phrase into modern English as a last-ditch effort. "Shakespeare created many of the words we use today. Here, is this easier to read?" I slip it over to Mike, poking his head with my pencil until he looks up.

" ... Yeah, this makes perfect sense now. She's manipulating him into killing the King, right?"

"You got it, dude!" Eric celebrates, throwing his hands in the air.

"Man, do I feel stupid..." Mike chuckles, looking at me. "Thank you so much, Bella."

"Anytime," I wave my hand, looking away in embarrassment. "And don't feel stupid. Times change; language changes faster. You're not used to all the thous and thys. I've got a modern English copy of this at home, I'll bring it for you tomorrow."

"God, you coming here is just a miracle for me." He muses, leaning on his hand. Eric takes the initiative from me and smacks the back of Mike's head.

The rest of the morning goes by smoothly, and then lunchtime comes. I ready myself to grab some salad and juice, but I'm stopped before I can get in the line. My stomach sinks and Edward Cullen smiles down at me, his hands shoved in his pant pockets.

"Can I help you?" I force myself not to shrink down. To my surprise, he doesn't have the same Ready-To-Slaughter expression that radiated off him yesterday. In fact, he seems ... nervous. He bites his lip and looks around, then right at me. I blink rapidly as the buzzing rises back in my brain. I sigh, shaking my head to toss the pain out. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm starving."

"I uh ... see you in class..." He walks to his table, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding in his hoodie. The other Cullens look from him to me, their eyebrows raised in unison. Then the pixie one, Alice, gets this excited look on her face. Almost cartoon-like. Her mouth and eyes grow huge and she leans over to talk to Edward. I gather my food and head to my new group's table.

"Did you bring your notes, Bella? Jessica's confused about the whole Macbeth thing, too." Mike says when I sit down. I swallow a good bit of my drink and prepare to lecture a group of Juniors on the wonders of Shakespeare and SparkNotes.

Edward is silent during the Biology lecture, but it is plain to me he isn't paying the slightest bit of attention. I can see black earbuds, tucked under the shaggy copper curls of his hair, and out of Mr. Molina's sight. They go inside his hoodie and out at the bottom; the cord tucked into the pocket. I glance at his notes, not exactly surprised to see it is scribbles. I ready myself for Ignore Mode when I realize something.

He isn't scribbling. Those are music notes.

In fact, his notebook is sheet music. There's no title to the composition, but the arrangement itself is astounding. Varying from simple to complex, if it's for anything other than a piano or some stringed instrument, the player is going to faint half-way through. I don't notice my lean until I've lost balance, the seat shooting to my right. I bash my head on Edward's leg, bracing myself for the hard floor.

"_Bella..._" A voice, so light and lilting, gives me the courage to open my eyes. Half the class is looking down at me, the teacher included. I look at them, fixing my glasses after a second. I move up, and that is when I realize I'm in someone's arms, feeling much like a blushing bride. Emphasis on blushing. When I face the arms' owner, my heart drops.

Edward's face is riddled with terror, his empty eyes wide. "Are you all right?"

"I-I am now. Thank you. But ... how-how did you?"

"He was right beside you, Isabella," Mr. Molina interrupts, patting my shoulder. "He guided you to the floor when you fell. I saw the whole thing. Excellent work, Edward." Edward nods stiffly, his eyes never leaving me.

After a few more minutes of checking me over, Mr. Molina calls the class back to attention. For the rest of the hour, I'm staring at Edward from the corner of my eye. His eyes are closed, his breathing quiet. Almost like he's just moving his shoulders, not inhaling at all. I tear a page from my little notebook and write on it.

"I don't know how you caught me so fast, but thank you. You're extraordinary, you know."

When the bell rings for gym, I grab my bag and books, slipping the note in his hand. As I leave the room, I hear a soft chuckle from behind me.

"You don't know the half of it, Bella..." I pause for a moment, brows furrowed.

We never introduced ourselves. Not fully. How did he know I go by Bella?

When the school day is done, and the flush finally fades from my cheeks, I walk to my truck with a swimming head. Logically, I should have hit the floor. I mean, I guess some people have good reflexes, but I was half-way down when I closed my eyes. I should have landed. I should be in the nurse's office, or hospital. There is no way any normal person could...

I'm back home before I know it.

To my surprise, there's a car behind me, and it pulls in beside mine. I look over, laughing at Mike's face pressed against the glass. I hop out of the truck, dragging my backpack behind me and "slam" my fist against the glass. Like a Drama King, Mike falls back, "dead". From the driver's side, Eric leans over and gives me a thumbs up in approval. I motion for him to roll the passenger window down.

"Why, exactly, do I have two dudes stalking me?"

"Stalking? Why I'd never!" Mike slaps his hand against his chest. "But, since you asked so nicely, we were wondering if you wanted to come with us to this new cafe in town. It's one of those open mic places, Jessica's been dying to go."

"Same with Angela," Eric says with a goofy smile on his face. "You left the school before we could ask so I uh ... kinda ... yeah, I guess stalked is accurate."

"At least you're honest," I shake my head. I think about it for a second. I have little homework, and Charlie is a call or text away. "Let me just..." I pull out my phone and send him a message. The reply is a bunch of thumbs up emojis and one poo. I'll just ... take that as a "yes". "I'm in! Just let me put my stuff up."

A Muse cover band rocks their rendition of the music from the cafe speakers. The five of us have our coffees — me being the lone iced coffee drinker — and gossip on the table. And while the conversation is engaging, I can't help but notice the little looks Angela and Eric give each other when they think no one is paying attention, and while the other's head is turned. The small spark of romantic tension puts a smile on my face. Jessica tapping my shoulder pulls me back to the talking.

"Are you gonna answer, Bella?"

"Oh, sorry Jess. I didn't hear what you asked."

"You have mud in your ears, I swear. I asked what your friends back in Arizona are like. Preppy, emo, gamer? Like us?" She motions to the other three, grimacing at Mike's foam mustache.

Hehe ... _mousse_-stache.

"I uh ... never really had friends," I answer honestly, taking a bite from my garden burger. "I lost most of them in middle school. I started focusing on keeping house more than anything else. The rest found their own cliques Freshman year. Been a lone wolf ever since." I shrug it off, not really liking all the eyes on me.

" ... that's depressing." Jessica breathes, her face full of sorrow. "Well, hopefully, things will be different this time around! So, uh ... what kind of weird interests do you have?"

"Wow, Jess, bad phrasing," Eric snorts, lobbing his maraschino cherry at Mike. "I'm going to guess journaling. I saw you writing in a little book during lunch yesterday. Isn't that more of an at-home thing?"

"It's not really a journal or diary," I rub the back of my neck, looking at the table. "It's how I practice description. I take a person, a name, a room, and I write exactly what I see. It gets boring, so I've started being more poetic with it."

"I wanna see mine!" Jessica almost shouts, making us all jump back a bit. "... heh, sorry. Can I see mine?"

"I left the book at home, actually... I figured it'd be rude to write while I was out with everyone." Jessica's disappointment is almost palpable. "But I'll bring it to lunch tomorrow. I promise." The entire table cheers, Angela and Jessica laughing quietly.

"So, did anyone else notice how weird Edward Cullen was acting?" Mike says with a groan. "He kept looking at Bella like she was the Devil."

"Yeah, I saw that too," Angela says in her quiet, light voice. "Bella, what did he say to you today? During lunch, he stopped you right?" I gulp.

"Y-yeah, he did, but only to say he'd see me in class. And if you remember, he kept me from cracking my skull open." I knock on my skull, quite confused by Mike's huff. "What?"

"He probably knocked you down. The guy is a freak, Bella. He doesn't talk to anyone, he barely interacts with his own family! And now he's acting like you're the biggest problem in his life." The others nod in agreement, Angela shrugging.

"I think he's just shy," I eat more of my sandwich, chewing slowly. "And he didn't knock me over, I was leaning too far. It was _my _fault."

"Something catch your eye?" Mike raises a brow, or maybe it twitched.

"Well, yes ... he was composing. His notebook, it's sheet paper. He was writing a song."

"He ... writes music?"

"That would explain why his headphones are always in," Jessica says, tilting her head. "Maybe he's working on something big, a multi-part orchestral production or something. His sister-in-law does work at the theater in Port Angeles."

"Esme Cullen, really?" Eric lets out a small laugh. "I figured she was the Stay-At-Home-Mom type. I mean, her husband is a doctor. Who needs to work when your hubby raking in that kind of cash?"

"Wait, wait," I stop them, holding my hands up. "So, you're all telling me that, of all the Cullens, who you all seem to like and even respect, you're going to consider the quiet one a weirdo? That isn't at all fair, guys."

They all go rather pale, guilt on most of their faces. Angela, however, looks right at me and winks. Looks like I'm not the first one to point this hypocrisy out. More power to you, Wonder Woman.

"Look, can we talk about something else, please?" Mike says, trying to lighten the mood with his award-winning smile. The distraction is a good thing. I feel like I just isolated myself among my own new group of friends.

It doesn't take me long to get settled in my fluffy pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt. Charlie already said he's bringing food home for dinner, and while I type away on my computer to edit my old papers, the email icon catches my attention. There's a red dot on it, and I feel the Fates closing in on my life string. I open the window and read the emails, hoping I'm not in deep shit.

"Bella,  
Write me as soon as you get this. My phone cord ran away, but my laptop's didn't! How did your second day go? Is it raining? I miss you already, sweetie. I'm almost finished packing for Florida! But I can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says 'Hi'!  
Love Mom."

I relax a bit at her calm tone and read the second one, sent eight hours later. I would have been in class when this came in. Oh Renee...

"Bella,  
Why haven't you emailed me yet? Are you waiting for something?  
Mom"

The nerves started creeping back in. No "love", super short. Not a good sign.

"Isabella,  
If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie."

Full first name! Bad, bad, bad, very bad. I check the clock and catch my breath. I've got an hour. Even still, I slap my forehead for forgetting to check these and write a reply.

"Mom,  
Sorry for not emailing sooner! With school and my new friends, I've been very busy lately. I'm getting used to the rain, emphasis on starting. My little notebook is almost full too, isn't that awesome?  
Oh, and your puke-pink shirt is at the dry cleaners. Might wanna call them! I think they give them away after a week.  
Dad bought me a truck! It's so old and loud, but it's perfect. I love it so much. It's named The Thing! Pretty cool, huh?  
I miss you too, Mom. I will email again soon, but please remember my laptop isn't always on me. I'll sync to the app, but for now, just remember to breathe. It may not be fast, but I'll get to you. I promise.  
I love you, Mom!  
Bella."

With that taken care of, I check the current reading project and groan. Of all books, it's gotta be _Wuthering Heights_. I almost fell asleep last time they forced me to read this. Death by heartbreak? Yeah, right? I set the list down and click that specific essay to change. About a half-hour later, I hear the front door shut.

"Bella, you home?"

"Yeah!" I hop out of my chair, rushing down the stairs to the scent of food. "Whatcha get me? Huh-huh-huh?"

"No love for her father, harsh." He takes off his gun, setting it on the hall table. "Your favorite — fettuccine alfredo with broccoli. And for me, chicken parmesan."

"Gross, Dad. I don't get how you can eat that." I take the bags of food and take it to the kitchen, setting it on the island so I can get forks. I keep thinking about his gun by the door. As far as I know, he's never shot it. But he has it at-the-ready. And it's a little ... different from the solid black Glocks the other cops carry. The butt of the gun seems like it's made of horn, and the barrel is more reflective than steel. A custom gun? I shake my head, pulling my hair from my face.

"I don't judge your diet, don't you judge mine." I snicker quietly, hearing that his mouth is full. When I turn, the crumbs in Charlie's mustache give him away. "What?"

"You ate all the rolls, didn't you?" I take the to-go containers to the table. Charlie gathers drinks, mumbling defenses through his gag of bread. "Save it, Dad."

We eat in comfortable silence, both content with our food and just having each other nearby. We are pretty well suited for living together. Then Charlie clears his throat.

"So, how did you like school? Have you made any friends?" He asks, about half-done with his portion.

"I've made a few friends. Jessica, Angela, Mike, and Eric. I'm still getting to know them, but so far, they're awesome. Mike is a regular puppy with his energy. I get tired just watching him half the time. Pretty well everyone is nice here." With one outstanding exception...

"A puppy, you say. That must be Mike Newton. Good kid, good family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town, a few little outlets, and an arcade." Charlie rolls his eyes, taking a drink. "Man makes a killing with all the hikers that come through here, especially during the summer." I nod, swallowing my mouth full of sandwich. I hesitate to ask, but I may as well get it out of the way.

"Hey Dad, do you know the Cullen family?"

"Carlisle Cullen's family? Rather well, actually. His kids are really involved in community projects, and Carlisle himself helps with investigations. Why?"

"That's cool, but uh ... well, his ... brother, Edward is a little ... off. Like, I haven't _seen _it, but apparently, he's super stuck up and ... I just... I dunno, it's probably nothing." I look up from my food and freeze. Charlie's enraged, taking me completely off guard.

"People in this town... Edward has a lot of baggage. Carlisle explained it to me after I met the kid; he was adopted, and then abandoned by their parents. All the shit he went through has made him reserved. And this town is damn lucky Carlisle doesn't drag his entire family out of here because of how those brats talk about that kid! I've never had a lick of trouble from him, and that is more than I can say for the kids who've been here their whole lives. People are just ... _assholes_." This has to be the most my dad has spoken consecutively since he was an infant. He must really believe what he is saying. I backpedal, not wanting his blood pressure to rise even further.

"He seems nice, Dad, I just ... I heard the whispers is all."

"Well, now you know better, eh?" I nod slightly, picking at my food. "You should see the doctor," Charlie says, laughing. "It's a good thing he's happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around." I raise my brow at his sudden deviation from Edward, and his exact phrasing. _You should see the doctor_.

I'm starting to think his divorce from Renee was more than just them having different life goals.

We lapse back into silence as we finish eating. Charlie and I make quick work of the minimal cleanup, and afterward, we parted ways for the night. He watches one of those weird cooking competitions and I go to my room to finish some Trig homework. Before I can even get on the stairs, he kisses my forehead and wishes me a good night. I can feel a routine in the making, and I like it.

The next couple of days are uneventful. Jessica and Mike have made it their duty to attach themselves to me at the hip. Every day at lunch Mike brings up a trip to First Beach in La Push, and while I agree just to be polite, spending time at a cold beach sounds horrible. I remind myself that there is more to see than just the freezing abyss of the Washington coast and the stabbing bits of glass sand becomes when it's under 80 degrees. Maybe I'll just sneak my way to the main reservation and talk to Julie, if Billy will let me visit.

By the end of the week, I'm even used to the silent glares from my Biology neighbor. We've come up with a little system. We say "hi", we say "bye", and there is hardly anything in between other than "can I borrow a pencil?" or "what did he say?" When the weekend starts, I'm relieved that I won't have to see him for two days.

But then, right after Charlie has left for work, there is a knock at my door. I open it, still in my pajamas, almost dropping my bowl of cereal. Edward Cullen, hands deep in his trademark blue hoodie jacket, is looking at me with eyes the size of the moon. His eyes flash down my torso before locking in the air over me. I pull the oversized shirt back, so my shorts are visible, saving a smidgen of modesty. After a few seconds of awkward staring, he breaks the silence.

"_Bella..._ is uh ... Chief Swan still home?"

"Uh, no. Sorry, you just missed him. Literally."

"_Fuck_!" No man has the right to sound so musical while hissing an explicate. "... can I come in for a second? I didn't even think to grab my phone before leaving home." I nod and move so he can enter. A cool breeze created by him makes me shiver, I cling to the door for a second before closing it. "... you okay?"

"Yeah, just underdressed."

"Heh, I guess so. Don't let me interrupt your uh ..." He squints at the TV, and then at me. "What the hell _are _you watching? That is a lot of blood."

"There's a Saw marathon on the horror channel." I look up at him, my lips pressed together. He blinks, looking down at me with furrowed brows. "You're the one who barged in my house, man. Don't judge."

"Oh-kay, then. Uh, the landline?"

"In the kitchen, on the wall. You'll see it when you get there."

"Awesome. Thank you, _Bella_."

As he goes through the kitchen door, I can't help but ponder on his ... his emphasis of my name. I can't even tell you how many times I've heard "Bella", "Bells", and even "Izzy" in my life. After 17 years, counting would be near impossible. But the way Edward said it ... like he wanted it to last. Like he was tasting my name, savoring it. God, I feel so creepy even reading that much into it. Maybe I'm just being melodramatic. Or maybe ... I press my ear to the kitchen door and strain.

"Charlie, it's me ... yes, I'm at your house, I'll leave soon, I promise. No, she's not in danger." His voice is almost impossibly soft. But I'm too afraid to poke my head in further. I take my glasses off to press my cheek even closer. _Danger_? "Carlisle and I ... yeah, exactly. He thinks it best you blame an animal. Bears, maybe? Or cougars. Uh huh ... Yes. Right. Next shipment is coming soon, Jay will call you. See you around."

Before he can make it to the kitchen door, I've rushed myself to the couch, glasses back home on my face. I pretend to be engrossed in watching a guy saw his own foot off, munching on my semi-soggy mess of cereal. I can see — through the thin veil of my hair — that he is watching me, his head tilted.

My skull fills with buzzing again, and I wince at the intensity of it. It's nearly blinding. My eyes water until tears threaten to fall. But then it stops, and Edward lets out a breath.

"Thanks again. I'll see you Monday."

"... yeah, see you."

Monday brings an English test on _Wuthering Heights,_ and a test on my patience. I'd gone over my notes, but I'd be lying if I lost complete interest during the studying process. I don't think I got an A, but at this point, I'm okay with a C. But walking out of the class amid a flurry of students grumbling about the test, swirling white falling from the air like angelic dandruff made me stop in my tracks. The crunch of the other students walking makes my eyes go wide, and I look around rapidly.

I've never seen snow before.

"Bella, you okay?" Eric and Mike take turns poking my cheek.

"It's so cold... this is amazing!" I stick out my tongue and let a flake land. It's just crystallized water, but to me, it's a fantasy come to life. I take my hair down so the bits of ice can land in it, giggling the entire time. I feel like a child again.

"This is so cute, man." Eric chuckles, looking around like the snow is nothing. "Arizona, meet the White Death. White Death, don't take Arizona." Mike laughs right as a big, squishy ball of dripping snow whaps into the back of his head. A wild laugh has us turning toward the assailant, and to my surprise, it's Emmett, with Jasper Hale guffawing beside him.

"I'll get you for that, you prick!" Mike and Eric gather snow, glaring playfully at the mountain man across the way. Emmett, whose dreadlocks stay in a rather impressive bun, just stands there, a wicked smirk on his face. Just beyond him, I see Jasper, his wavy hair in a low ponytail, just looking at me with a neutral, maybe even curious expression.

"I'll see you idiots at lunch." I slowly back away as I speak. "Warfare is a no-no for Bella Swan." I bolt to the door, sliding on a massive stripe of ice the rest of the way. I catch myself on the handle, a group of onlookers snickering at me. The rest of the morning is full of snow talk, people laughing at those who fall over — myself included — and the Hale boy sniping people with snowballs.

Jessica helps me dodge the flying snow on our way to lunch. We laugh, trudging through the deep blanket to the side of the concrete walkway. Through the windows, I can see a group of boys just continually pelting each other with snow. Emmett sticks out right away, being the tallest there, and I can't see Jasper anywhere. I don't see Edward either.

"Hey Bella," Jessica nudges my shoulder. "You okay? You keep zoning out?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just watching those morons over there." She looks over my shoulder to the fight outside the cafeteria.

"Wow, Emmett's kicking their ass."

"Yeah, really." I grab a bottle of water and a salad, silently wishing the school had more vegetarian options. We congregate at the table, inching away from the soaking wet pair that is Mike and Eric. A frigid blast lets us know when someone else enters for lunch, and a roaring laugh clues me in right away who came in.

I turn my head slightly, trying not to be noticed. None of them are paying attention to the crowd of people. Emmett and Jasper were shaking snow from their jackets and hair, Alice riding on Emmett's shoulders in apparent triumph. Rosalie laughs at them rather than with them, her pink clothes and hair untouched by the snow. Just like everyone else, they're enjoying the bright day. But there's something off about it, more of a tired familiarity than a childlike excitement.

And their skin is ... different. Red, healthy. My first thought is that they're just flushed from the cold, but the color never vanishes in the heated room. The change makes me uneasy, like them having more color to their skin isn't a good thing. Alice sits beside Edward, who I assume was there the entire time, his notebook in his hands and headphones already on.

A tap on my shoulder brings me back to reality.

"Bella, what are you looking at?" Jessica follows my stare, almost sending me into panic. Instead, I freeze, seeing Edward's eyes flash in our direction, appearing to meet mine, right as Jessica finishes her question. His eyes aren't hostile, or empty like they were on Saturday. He's just looking at me. Then he smiles and winks. I hear a giggle from over my shoulder.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you," She winks, looking rather impressed.

"He doesn't look angry, does he?" I can't help asking, still off-put by his sudden change in apparent demeanor.

"Uh, should he be?"

"I just ... don't think he likes me," I confide, rubbing the back of my neck. It's stupid, treating it like some enormous secret. But it feels right to tell someone. And she's known the Cullen family longer than I have.

"Edward doesn't like anybody. Or, well, he doesn't acknowledge anybody. Until now. He's still staring at you, you know."

"Stop looking at him..." I glare at her, hissing between my teeth. She snickers but looked away, a playful tilt to her head. The childishness in her action makes me think of all the ways I could hurt her if she looked at him again.

Mike steals everyone's attention, talking about an epic Battle of the Blizzard in the lot after school. He asks if we would join, Jessica enthusiastically agreeing. I have a feeling she'd agree to anything he suggested, including jump off the La Push cliffs. Okay, that's harsh. It's just a little crush. I stay silent, deciding to hide in the gym to avoid any crossfire.

I stay quiet and downcast for the rest of lunch, not really wanting to catch Edward's eyes again. Or have Jessica point out he's watching me. Maybe things will be like always, maybe I'm just overreacting. Still, he barely acknowledged me last week, and now ... I look over for a second. He's eating with his siblings, looking at his small plate. I'm definitely overreacting.

Since Mike is a prime target for snowball snipers, Angela and I walk a few feet ahead of him, laughing every time we hear a wet smack behind us. I hear the patter of rain on the roof once I entered the building, followed by a collective groan.

I'm a little disappointed, but maybe the rain will melt all the ice. I'd love to walk straight to The Thing without the fear of breaking my neck.

I'm a little surprised to see my desk empty when we enter the room. Mr. Molina is passing out microscopes and boxes of slides, speaking loudly about them being onion root cells for us to identify the stages of. I part with Mike and Angela, settling at my aisle seat with an open notebook. I write, hearing when the chair beside me scratches with movement. I ignore it, writing how the room smells with all the onions Mr. Molina has on his desk.

"_Hello_," says a quiet, musical, eerie voice from just over my ear.

I look up. Like always, he is as far from me as the desk allows, but his torso is facing me, giving a contradictory message with his body language. Even with his hair being messy and soaking wet, he looks like he came off a movie set, even offering a near-flawless, friendly smile from his thin, pink lips. But his eyes are careful, locked in on my every move. I force myself to relax and smile.

"Hey, Edward." I drum my fingers on the notebook, not knowing how to make the silence less awkward. He bites his lip, and, to my surprise, moves closer.

"How uh ... was your weekend?"

"Good, I guess. I tried to study for that English exam, but I couldn't focus on it to save my life."

"It was ... _Wuthering Heights,_ right?"

"Yeah, it was. Your class going over it too? I haven't seen you in any other Junior rooms."

"Pardon? I'm not a Junior, I'm a Senior."

"Oh ... I'm sorry, I just assumed... since we're in the same Bio class, you know?"

"Hey, at least you didn't mistake me for a Freshman." He chuckles, covering his mouth with his hand. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he said something against his fingers. "But I understand. My nephew and nieces are Juniors, it's an understandable assumption." I nod, scribbling again. Their age differences are almost nothing...

"All right!" Mr. Molina's booming voice makes us both snap to the front of the room. "Onion root tip cells! Your job is to identify what phase of mitosis the cells are in. The first pair to guess them all correctly will win The Golden Onion." He pulls a spray-painted onion from the box on his desk, holding it like an Olympic medal.

"That's just gross..." I whisper.

"Ladies first, partner?" Edward asks. I look up to see him smiling a crooked smile, genuine and almost apologetic. I nod, smiling back as I put one slide in and look into the scope. "Tell me what you think." He tears out a sheet of paper to use and numbers it based on the slides.

"Nothing yet ... but I've done this before, so after a few adjustments ..." I lean back, switching the lens to the 40x magnification and looking back in. "I spy ... prophase. But a good scientist asks for a second opinion." I offer him the scope, somewhat grateful for this broken barrier.

"And I'll gladly provide, Doctor Swan," he jokes, reaching for the microscope to move it closer to him. His hand catches mine for a moment. The ice-cold chill of his fingers pulls a soft gasp from my mouth. I move my hand away slowly. It's like he'd just been in the snow, but it's gone, he's been inside for over an hour. I try not to stare at him as he checks my assessment, barely even looking down the lens.

"Prophase," he agrees, filling in the sheet. He switched out the slides, again barely glancing at it before saying, "Anaphase. Second opinion?"

"Of course. Needs to be some teamwork, right?"

He smirks, sliding the scope toward me. It becomes a back-and-forth until we finish all the slides in order, occasionally making snarky remarks about being "scientists" or how "difficult" the assignment is. Through the pleasant conversation, one thing sticks out. He hasn't touched me again.

When Mr. Molina comes around to collect our paper, appearing impressed that we finished so quickly, I notice the difference between mine and Edward's penmanship. Mine is sloppy, scratchy, rather typical for a teenager. His is ... almost calligraphy. Looped with a steady hand that definitely didn't belong to a ... what 17- or 18-year-old boy. It's intimidating, adding to my discomfort. Maybe Mike is right, there is something weird about this guy.

I glance over at Edward for a second, finding him with his composition notebook out, his eyes trailing along the line. I pull out my iPod, ready to leave him alone, but something hits me like a train. I look at him again, double-checking my observation.

"Do you have color contacts in?"

"What?" He sets the pen down. "Contacts?"

"Uh, yeah. Your eyes, they look different. Almost..."

"Oh, uh ..." he shrugs like it's no big deal, but he shifts his face away from mine. "It's the uh ... fluorescent lights. I'm allergic to contacts." It is a statement, I know that. But he ends it like a question. Like he doesn't know how to explain. But I know lights don't make black irises look blood red. So, either he is lying about the allergy — which he definitely is judging by the hard fists his hands have become — or there is something terribly wrong with Edward Cullen.

"It's too bad about the snow, don't you think? The boys were going to ambush the rest of the students after school." Edward says nonchalantly, with a forced edge to his tone. I don't like small talk, and I definitely don't like obligated small talk. But I humor him, a little afraid to get back on his nasty side.

"It is kinda sad, but at the same time it doesn't break my heart." I focus on my writing, recording everything I've seen and felt. He chuckles softly.

"Forks must be a tough place for you to live, _Arizona_." His use of Mike's stupid nickname chills me to the bone. There's no way he could have heard Mike say that. He's never within earshot of us when we're chatting. Don't flinch, just keep it rolling.

"Well, it's new, but not tough. I'm adjusting pretty well, I think."

"Why did you come here, then?" His voice is demanding, a thin layer of annoyance. Like he thinks he should already know the answer. For a split second, the buzzing fills my skull. I rub my temples until it vanishes and face him.

"Look, it's complicated, and I just met you, and we never talk, so —"

"I've always heard the easiest person to vent to is a stranger. C'mon, try me. I can keep up," he presses, leaning a little closer. I pause for a moment, and make the mistake of meeting his gaze. His eyes, bright and strange, practically compel me to tell the truth.

"My mother got remarried last September. I like the guy, but he travels a lot — Minor League Ballplayer. Mom didn't enjoy staying behind with me, so I came up here to live with my dad. That's about it, really." He blinks a moment, taking it all in. Then he smiles, leaning his head into his palm.

"That doesn't sound so complex," he shrugs his shoulders. "Though it seems unfair to me that you'd come up here instead of her choosing to stay with you. That's an enormous sacrifice for a kid, Bella. Especially since it makes you unhappy."

"Hasn't anyone ever told you?" I ask, letting out a humorless laugh. "Life isn't fair. Besides, I'm not exactly unhappy."

"I believe I have heard that somewhere before," he agrees, his tone dry. His eyes shift from frustrated to appraising. Like I'm an antique. "You put on a good show," he drawls. "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see." I scowl at him, not liking how he can read me as well as my mom can. "Am I wrong?"

I try to ignore him.

"I didn't think so," he murmurs smugly.

"Why does it matter to you?" I ask, irritated. I keep my eyes away, watching Mr. Molina make his rounds. So far, half the class is finished, the other half is face-planting into their desks.

"That's an excellent question," he says so quietly that I figure he is talking to himself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I realize that's the only answer I'm going to get.

I sigh, glaring at the blackboard.

"Am I annoying you?" he asks meekly.

"Not really. I'm more annoyed you could read me so easily than anything else. My mom used to call me her _little open book_," I mimic her voice, noting in the back of my mind that I need to work on my poker face if this guy is so good at reading people.

"To the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite the past five minutes entailing me spilling about why I came to Forks, and him accurately guessing just how much being here is hard on me, he sounds sincere.

"Really now?" I shake my head, laying my chin in my hands. "I find that hard to believe, but if you like the challenge, I'm glad to provide." He grins, briefly exposing his garishly white teeth. My stomach churns at the slight red tint on his canines. Before I can look any closer, his mouth is closed.

"Challenge accepted, then."

Mr. Molina calls the class to order then and I turn to listen, forcing Edward completely out of my mind. I can't believe I told all that to him, I haven't even admitted to my friends exactly why I moved to Forks. But he seemed so engrossed, like everything that came from my mouth was precious. He hasn't moved an inch, making him closer to me than he had been the whole of last week.

When the bell finally rings, Edward stands and smiled down at me. "See you tomorrow, Bella."

"See you..."

He rushes from the room, much slower than last week, smiling over his shoulder at me before vanishing from sight. Mike approaches with his head low. I fight the urge to pat him like a puppy.

"That was awful! They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Cullen for a partner." He gripes as we leave the room. I glare at him, pissed that he up and assumed that Edward did all the work for me.

"I didn't have _any _trouble with it," I say, making sure it gets through to him that what he said was rude. With a slight wince, Mike's eyes flick around as he struggles to change the subject. He falls on Edward.

"W-well ... uh ... Cullen seemed friendly enough today," his voice is strained. Is that the only topic he can come up with? "Something must have been bothering him last week." I tune Mike out as we get into the routine of putting on our raincoats and heading out to the gym.

Mike is on my volleyball team that day, helping me cover the one corner the other side seems hellbent on hitting. Overall, the game is typical, with only minor bruising on each of us when we finally get into it. But it passes in a muddy blur, I'm in The Thing in a blink.

I turn the heat on low and pull my hood down, letting my hair out from its gym class ponytail to dry a bit. When I look out to make sure it was clear, I notice a few cars down from me that Edward Cullen is leaning against his Volvo, staring at me — well, at the truck from that distance. I shake my head and shift it in reverse, letting a rust bucket Corolla pass behind me.

I can feel his eyes on me as I leave the parking lot, wondering just what the Hell has caused this change in behavior, and just what kind of person he is.


	4. Adrenaline Rush

I spend my first ten minutes awake just staring at my ceiling, wondering what's so different about today. The light... still gray green, a cloudy day, but something is clearer. I sit up, puzzled, and look out my window. The fog, it's gone. I rush to look out the window and gasp. A fresh layer of snow has blanketed the yard, dusted the top of The Thing. But glancing at the trees tranforms my wonder with reality.  
On the branches, you can see icicles, transparent daggers that warn you about every puddle on the road. Black ice is going to be everywhere.

I consider calling in sick and crawling back to bed.

Charlie leaves before I can finish dressing, shouting a goodbye up the stairs. I wave from the bathroom, still tugging the kinks out of my hair. I grab an oatmeal bar for breakfast, knowing Charlie's rush made cooking completely leave his mind. I'm kinda looking forward to getting to school just for the social interaction, but as I walk to my truck I hesitate. I remember him.

Edward _fucking _Cullen. The babbling was my fault, I'm not afraid to admit that, but that stupid _prick_. He practically ignores my existence for a week, randomly shows up at my house, interrogates me, and I'm supposed to just ... go with the flow? And what about his eyes? His strange glances, his icy touch, his above-average ability? God, I want nothing more than to avoid him, but I don't have a choice. Every day, I'll sit beside someone who I'm not entirely sure I can even trust. It's enough to make my stomach churn. I swallow the bile and inch down the driveway.

Driving to school, I hyper-focus on the road, grateful that most of Forks' traffic has already gone through to work before I even got up. I distract myself from my idiotic speculations about Edward Cullen by thinking about the reading assignments I still need to get done. _The Canterbury Tales _occupies my brain for a couple minutes before Edward Cullen flashes back through. Maybe it's the fact I'm new, and it took away a bit of his exotic air. I'm a novelty and he didn't like that. Though because of my newness, I've been able to get a handful of awesome friends.

The Thing travels easily on the black ice, not slipping once. However, because it is a solid metal truck, I still drive like an old man, not wanting to carve a path of mayhem and destruction down the road. At least not on a school day. When I finally get to school, I notice something silvery from the corner of my eyes. I smile, seeing the carefully wrapped chains around the tires. Charlie, it had to be him. I know he'll hate it, but he's getting a massive hug from me when he gets home.

I hop from my truck, rubbing a happy tear from my eye, when I hear something strange. A high-pitched screech, every second making it painfully loud. I look toward the sound, rounding my truck, and realize that I'm about to die.

I see several things simultaneously, adrenaline making everything clear and focused. Edward Cullen standing four cars down from me, staring on in horror, his face standing out from a sea of fear. But of more immediate importance is a dark blue van, tires locked against the brakes, spinning across the parking lot, barreling at my truck.

With me standing in between. I don't even have time to scream.

Just before I hear the crunch of the van breaking my spine in two against the truck bed, something hits me hard, and not from the direction I expected. My head smacks against the blacktop, something solid and cold pinning me to the ground. I lay on the pavement, not really noticing anything other than the van still coming at me, having curled around the end of the Thing.

A low curse makes me realize someone else is here, and the voice is impossible not to recognize. Two bony white hands shoot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop not even a foot from my face. The hands fit perfectly into a massive dent in the side of the van. The hands moved so fast they blur. One gripping under the van, my body being dragged like a rag doll until my legs are right against the wheels of the car beside mine. A loud, metallic groaning pierces my ears and I can see the van settle into place, glass shattering onto the asphalt — exactly where, not even a second earlier, my legs had been.

It is silent for an eternal second, and then the screaming starts. I can hear multiple voices calling out my name, the driver's name, sending my eyes into a frenzy trying to find the specific people. Then right in my ear, Edward Cullen's voice, low and frantic, whispers.

"Bella, are you okay?"

"I ... don't know... " My voice is strained, the severity of what my fate should have been finally registering with me. I try to sit up, my entire body trembling, but find myself barely able to move. I look at Edward, realizing my body is against his in an iron grasp. He notices my struggling and holds me tighter. I can feel his heartbeat, slower than someone in deep sleep.

How is he not panting right now?

"Easy there, you hit your head hard..."

"I what... o-ow!" I notice a sharp ache centered above my left ear, my eyes watering from the unusual sensation.

"That's what I thought." His voice is sorrowful, not matching the soft smile on his face. I stare at him, vision clearing, still shocked that he is there to begin with. There was no way he should have been able to get to me that quickly. And the van, his hands... how did he do that?

"How did you get over here so fast?" I ask, my voice level and grave. His smile vanishes, and he leans in closer, his voice matching mine in tone.

"I was standing right next to you the whole time, Bella."

I turn to sit up and this time he lets me, releasing his hold around my waist and sliding as far from me as he can. I watch at his concerned face, worried eyes, still shaken from the entire experience. This guy is going to drive me insane with his mood swings. The crowd finds us then, people with tear-stained faces and blotchy eyes, shouting at each other and us. I glance around at the flurry of activity, my vision blurring, my head pounding. I rub my temples to try to relieve tension. People bark orders at each other.

"Don't move."

"Get Tyler out of the van!"

I try to get up, try to get away from the shouting and rushing, but Edward's chilly hand pushes my shoulder down. I shiver violently, pulling away from his hand. But he is persistent, pulling me closer to him. That's when I notice how shaky he is, his eyes wide with ... with fear? Is he afraid of the crowd?

"Just stay put for now... please."

"But you're cold," I say bluntly, surprised when he chuckles under his breath. There is an edge to it, lacking the musical quality his voice normally carried. I really didn't like that sound. "You were over there, by your car." His laughter stops, and we lock eyes, both our faces expressionless and hard.

"No, I wasn't."

"I saw you, Edward. Don't lie to me." Chaos surrounds us, adults starting to join the scene with their gruff but concerned voices. But I hold on to our argument, stubborn as my father. I am right and he is going to admit it.

"Bella, I was standing with you, I pulled you out of the way." His eyes flash, almost rendering me mute. It's like he is trying to tell me something vital with them, but I can't let it go. I refuse to.

"No, you weren't."

The red of his eyes blaze. "_Please_, Bella..."

"Why?"

"Trust me," he begs, on his knees in front of me. The fiery passion in his eyes is overrun by a near childlike fear. The sound of sirens hits my ears and I let out a sigh.

"Only if you swear you'll explain everything to me later."

"Alright, fine," he snaps, his frustration at me finally coming through. I grin, though it falters from pain. I won this time.

"Fine."

It takes six EMTs and two teachers to move the van far enough away for the stretchers to fit. Edward refuses, as do I, but he immediately mentions my dead injury, possibly a concussion. I glare at him when they put the neck brace on me, no doubt my face red from embarrassment. Damn traitor ... They load me in the back of the ambulance, the crowd making it feel like the entire school is watching me with somber, terrified looks on their faces.

Edward gets to ride in the front, to my annoyance. And to make matters worse, Charlie pushes his way through before they could get me safely away, recognizing me from a decent distance and running as fast as he could to the stretcher.

"Oh my God, Bella!"

"Dad, it's okay. I'm fine." He turns to the closest EMT for a second opinion, me losing his voice after I finally get a good look at the damage done to the car beside the Thing. There is a deep dent in the bumper, a very distinct one that seems to resemble the width of Edward's shoulders. Almost like he had ... braced himself against the car. There was enough force to damage the metal frame... how in the world...?

And then there is his family, just beyond the crowd. Their faces range from simple disapproval to complete rage, with not a single drop of worry between them. Like they had just seen him do something idiotic. I try to think of a logical way Edward could have gotten from them to me as quickly as he did — while excluding the idea that I've finally gone insane — and none of the possibilities look good.

Naturally, the ambulance gets a police escort to the county hospital. I try not to let my embarrassment become too apparent, but feel no shame in vocalizing my contempt when Edward glides through the hospital doors under his own power. I feel ridiculous the whole time they unload me.

They put me in the Emergency Room, my bed separated from the many others with a pastel curtain. A nurse takes my vitals, starting with a blood pressure cuff on my bicep and a thermometer under my tongue. When no one looks, I tear the neck brace off and hide it under my bed, the nurse not even acknowledging it when she asks about my normal levels. I'm about to ask for her to close the curtain when a group of hospital personnel brings another stretcher in, parking it beside me.

It's the driver of the van, a guy I take Government class with, named Tyler. He has bloodied bandages wrapped around his head, looking a hundred times worse than me. I wince just looking at him, sitting up in my bed so I can see him better.

"Ah man, are you okay?" He's in a hospital, Bella. He's not okay. I expect a groggy half-reply or nothing at all. Instead, I get wide, anxious eyes and a panicked voice.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, Bella!"

"Hey, don't worry about me. There's barely even a bruise. Wish I could say the same for you," the nurse comes to change his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow cuts all over his forehead and cheek.

He shakes his head, agitating the nurse trying to put fresh gauze over his wounds. "Christ, I thought I was going to kill you! I was speeding, I hit the ice wrong... how the hell did you get out of the way so quickly? It was like you were there one second and gone the next." Oh ... oh no. Uhhhh...

"I uh ... it was Edward, Edward Cullen. He pulled me out of the way."

"You serious? He must move fast. The only thing I saw was him standing by you and then bang!" He points to the bandages on his head. "Darkness. But ... this is gonna sound crazy ..."

"What is it?"

"Thing is ... I didn't see him at first. Maybe it was the angle or whatever, but one second you were alone, and the next he was beside you." Tyler chuckles, "I think the pain meds are blurring my memory."

"Yeah, probably..." The confirmation I need. I didn't imagine it. I'm not crazy. Edward just materialized from across the parking lot.

A nurse takes me from Tyler then, for x-rays on my head. I keep telling them I'm okay, there isn't a thing wrong with me. Turns out, I'm right. Not even a concussion, though they suspect I've gotten over the impact while I was in shock. I don't really remember going into shock. The nurse tells me to wait in my cot for a doctor to check me out. When she leaves, Tyler and I are alone with a thick wall of silence between us. I lay down, deciding to rest for a bit. The doctor shouldn't be too long, right?

"Is she sleeping?"

A hauntingly musical voice hits my ears and my eyes pop open. Edward is standing beside my cot, his shaking hand gripping the side rail. The nurse talks to him about my exam, that I'm not injured and should leave soon. His shoulders fall with relief and the nurse leaves. He looks down at me, and his eyes widen.

"You're awake..."

"And you're here. Unscathed."

"I ... y-yes, I am. I just wanted to see how you and uh, Tyler are doing." Edward turns to Tyler, face twitching in disappointment. I glance over and almost laugh at Tyler's snoring body. "I guess ... he's okay then."

"Yeah, I guess..."

We stay silent until a doctor rounds the corner. My mouth nearly falls open at the sight of him.  
Young, barely older than Edward in appearance, with blonde curls beyond his shoulders. His skin, ghastly white, only adds to the chill I feel when I meet his smiling eyes. Bright red, identical to Edward's in every way. He smiles at me with perfect heart lips, but the ice that radiates off both bodies almost shifts my state of awe into horror.

"Ah, Miss Isabella Swan," Doctor Cullen starts in a soft, almost sensual voice. I didn't expect him to have a slight British accent, but somehow it just makes sense for him to have one. "I'm glad to see you in one piece. How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine, sir. Just want to go home."

He nods, making his way to the light-board over my head and flicking it on. "Well, your x-rays look good. Do you have any pain? Edward said you hit hard." His eyes flick over to his brother for a moment, a flash of anger entering his ruby irises before they land on me again, taking a sweeter hue. Does everyone in this family have such wild emotional control?

"I promise, Doctor Cullen, I'm perfectly fine. My head doesn't hurt at all anymore." He lets out a small 'hm' before whisking his fingers over the dark purple splotch on the side of my head. I hiss, a sharp but quick pain shooting through me. He clicks his tongue.

"It's a mote tender, lass."

"Nothing I'm not used to, I've had worse." I hear a chuckle and glare over at Edward, his amused face pissing me off to no end. I can hear Doctor Cullen jotting something on his chart.

"All right, you can go home, Isabella. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight. Well," he leans in, tapping my glasses with his pen, "any more than usual. Sound good?"

"Sounds just fine, but why can't I go to school?"

"After what you went through, take it easy. I've called and told them you'll be absent for the rest of the day."

"And _him_?" I nod stiffly toward Edward.

"He wants me to go home too... I'll be there long enough to gather our homework and deliver it to you." A soft chuckle, eyes that refuse to meet mine. Or the doctor's. I shake my head, not seeing the doctor's anxious grin until he made a sound.

"Actually," Doctor Cullen taps his fingers on his clipboard, "most of the school seems to be in the waiting room." I lay my face in my hands and groan louder than I meant, earning a strange glance from both Cullen men. "Would you rather stay, Miss Swan?"

"No, I just hate crowds..." I rub my temples and hop down from the bed. Apparently, that is enough to upset my equilibrium and I fall against it. Dr. Cullen helps me stand, his face full of concern. "I'm fine, honest. I've always been a little clumsy."

"It sounds to me like you were lucky, Miss Swan." Dr. Cullen smiles, helping me stand and signing my chart with an added flourish.

"Yes, it was lucky that Edward was _s_tanding right beside me when it all happened. I'm just glad he isn't hurt." I fake a smile, noticing body language changes in both Edward and Dr. Cullen. Edward's entire body stiffens. Meanwhile, the good doctor is suddenly very interested in the papers before him rather than his patient — aka me.

"Oh, well, yes," He nods repeatedly, turning to Tyler as if to cut me off entirely. Something in the back of my mind doesn't like this situation at all and knowing the doctor is in on it only makes me more determined to understand just what was going on. Dr. Cullen rouses Tyler, talking about extending his stay and examining his injuries. With his back turned, I'm able to slide over to Edward, taking him by the arm.

"Hey, we need to talk," I pull on his arm gently, feeling cold spreading to my fingers and palm through his shirt. He looks down at me, sneering as he pulls his arm back. His movements are human like, slower than I am used to. But I don't see him lean down to hover just an inch from my face.

"Your father is waiting for you, go to him." He hisses through clenched teeth. He's more confident than usual. No stutter, no hesitation. I don't let that shake me.

I glance at Dr. Cullen and Tyler, not liking that they can clue in at any second. "Before I do, I need to talk to you. _Alone_." He glares at me, turning and leading me down the long room toward a far corridor. I have to jog to keep up with his fast movements. When he stops, he takes a second to breathe in and turns.

"All right, what do you want?" His voice and eyes are as cold as his skin, a layer of panic in his voice. One thing is definite; I am on to something. I cross my arms, returning his glare from before.

"You owe me an explanation."

"I don't owe you shit. I saved your life; you owe me."

"You promised me, remember?"

"You hit your head, Bella. You don't know what you're talking about." The harshness of his tone is enough to flare my temper. I step closer to him, jabbing his chest with my finger. Edward pulls back a step.

"Don't pull that shit on me, pretty boy. There is nothing wrong with my memory."

"Just ... what do you want, Bella?"

"I want the truth!" I snap, balling my hands into fists. "I want to know why I'm lying to everyone for you." He flinches, a near animalistic growl emanating from his throat. Am I triggering a fight-or-flight response? Oh God, I hope he chooses the latter.

"What do you think happened back there?"

It all pours out before I can stop myself.

"You weren't anywhere close to me. You were almost on the _opposite _side of the parking lot when Tyler came at me. And guess what? _He _didn't see you either, so don't you _dare _tell me I hit my head too hard! The van was going to _kill _me, but it didn't. And you, your body left _imprints _in the steel of both the van and the car you pushed me into. Out of all three people who should have died today, you are the only one who doesn't even have a _scratch _on them. And you were holding the van up, so it didn't crush my legs. That's just topping the list of weird shit that I've noticed about you. So, forgive me if I want to know just _what _the hell you are!"

He just looks at me, a rush of emotion coming from his brilliant and horrific eyes. Shock, fear, anger, rage ... hunger. "You honestly think I stopped a speeding vehicle with my bare hands? Lifted it so it wouldn't crush you?" His tone is perfect for an actor auditioning for the one sane person in a movie. I sneer, making sure he knows I refuse to back down. His eyes narrow and he leans down. "Nobody will believe you, you know."

"You think I'm stupid enough to tell anyone?" I choose my words carefully, keeping my tone level.

He scoffs, "Then why does it matter?"

"It matters to me, Edward. I hate lying, I suck at it. I especially hate lying for people who hate me." He flinches for the second time at my words, almost convincing me I hurt him.

"You can't just thank me and get over it." It isn't a question, somehow that pisses me off even more. I give him a huge, full-toothed smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry! _Thank you _for saving my life, Edward. _Thank _you for freaking me out daily. _Thank _you for your freakish eyes, your freakish strength, and your pigheadedness that no one warned me about!"

"You really won't let this go, are you? Well, in _that _case, I hope you enjoy disappointment. Because I'm not telling you _shit_." We glare at each other in silence, tears threatening to stream down my cheek. I'm the first to speak, turning away so he won't see just how close I am to breaking down.

"Why did you even bother?" I run away, not knowing or caring what his answer was. I am so angry I can't stop the tears from falling down my face. It clouds my vision. I can't see where I'm going. I stop in the middle of the hall to wipe my eyes. In the distance, I can hear Edward talking to ... someone. A woman?

" ... you've put us all in danger ... what if she tells ... Edward, you idiot! ... "

"Just leave me alone, Rose... I don't want to talk about this." Their footsteps get louder, I panic and wonder where to go. But then a sturdy pair of arms pulls me to the side, a warm chest greeting me. That cologne… Charlie!

"Bella! Thank God, you're okay!"

"Yeah, I'm okay Dad. Dr. Cullen says I'm unharmed. But he still wants me to go home and rest."

"Of course," Charlie relaxes, taking my face in his hands. His face ... his eyes are bloodshot, swollen, there's a shine of what must be snot in his mustache. He cried ... my dad cried. Oh God, the guilt is eating my stomach. And the accident wasn't even my fault.

Without a word, Charlie wraps one arm around my back, this time not caring about putting space between us, and escorts me to the exit, me waving with a shy smile to my friends. My phone vibrates like crazy, and I immediately start a group text so I can tell them all I'll talk to them about it tomorrow. I think I'll just make some canned soup and sleep for the rest of today.

We drive in silence. I take out my notebook, flipping to the one page just on Edward Cullen and his eccentricities. I add super strength, amazing speed, and defensiveness to the list. So far, what this equals has me looking like the biggest lunatic in Washington.

When we get to the house, Charlie speaks.

"So, um ... you need to call Renee." He chuckles weakly. "Sorry..."

"It's okay, Dad. I kinda expected you too to call her. I mean, she is my mom. She needs to know these things." I give him a quick peck on the cheek and run up to my room. I don't want to call her at all, but Mom not panicking trumps personal preferences. I hit her number on speed dial and wait for a response.

She is in hysterics me having to tell her at least thirty times that I'm fine before she would properly breathe. She begs me to come home — apparently forgetting I'd be in an empty house — because she doesn't want me to be in any more danger. Her pleas are easier to resist than they would have been my first day in Forks. I want to stay for three reasons; Charlie, my new friends, and Edward Cullen. I feel stupid thinking of him as a legitimate reason not to go back to the only home I've ever known, but I wouldn't be able to leave for even a weekend without having him in my mind.

I go to bed early, Charlie having ordered us Chinese instead of cooking. He watched over me for a while, but eased back once it fully clicked with him that I would not pass out at any moment. I think he's having a harder time coping with this than Renee is. At least she wouldn't have had to identify my body if ... okay, no. Don't think about that. I grab two Tylenol from my bathroom, which helps the remnants of the pain in my temple, and drift to sleep in a matter of minutes.

For some godforsaken reason, I dream of Edward Cullen.


	5. Hallucinations

It's practically pitch black, the only light in the room radiating somewhere off the horizon. In that light is Edward, his back facing me as he slowly walks away. I run, calling out to him, going as fast as my legs can carry me. But with all the ground I cover, there is no actual progress made. It's like I'm sprinting in place. He's not even acknowledged me ... hasn't looked back, hasn't given a simple head tilt. Am I invisible? Suddenly I'm falling back, and he's looking down at me with his black, void eyes.

I can see my hand slowly wrinkle, shriveling to bone ... and then to dust. I fail. I can't reach him. My body becomes too weak for me to even breathe... hands all over me, around my neck, holding my unseen wrists behind me. Pain ignites my skin, on my arms and on my shoulder. I feel the puncture of teeth, fangs burying into my flesh and bone. And then a shock of lightning straight through my veins. It burns. I can't move, I can't breathe.

And from above, my light, my only sign of life. Edward reaches for me, too far to grasp even my clothing. I scream voiceless, tears streaming from my eyes. His face, stone-like and emitting a cold radiance, moves slightly with his lips.

"_ ... stay with me, baby..."_

For the entire school day, Tyler Crowley follows me. He apologizes with every breath, pleads with his very eyes, wanting some way to make yesterday up to me. Doesn't he understand that I'm not injured? Or that accidents, you know, _happen_? Still, no matter how many times I repeat that he doesn't have to do a thing for me, he insists. I consider for a brief second having him do my Trig homework, but that would just be cruel. No one should have to do math twice over.

Come lunch, he's finally torn himself off my side and retreats to his table. And returns to take a spot at the far end of mine. Great...

"I can't believe you came today, Bella," Jessica says with a cheeky grin. "If a van nearly killed me, I'd still be in bed, or even shopping! Not like Doc Cullen didn't give you a note to use."

"Jess, all I got was a bump to the head. I'm fine. Hell, if it hadn't been for Edward, I'd probably be dead right now." From the corner of my eye, a blur of white and blue comes into focus.

"Uh, what do you mean?" Jessica practically laughs. "The guy probably ran over with the rest of us."

"Actually — "

"Bella's right, Jess," Tyler pulls her attention away from me, finishing his bite with one finger raised. "I saw him, he was beside her right before I made impact with ... with something. I didn't see what, but I know he was there with her."

The table goes silent. Heads slowly turn to me. Wait, no ... beside me?

_"Bella..._" Edward gently taps my shoulder and I glance up. He looks exhausted, and his irises aren't the bright, fiery red from yesterday. They're tarnished, like rust. His fingers drum along the bottom of his tray. "May I ... sit with you today? My niece is uh," he turns his head to his table, to the strangely pink-haired Rosalie — who is looking pissed off today, "_moody_, and unlike the others, I can only take so much of it."

"I mean, if everyone else is cool with it." He looks at the others at the table, eyes flicking over them one at a time, his effect going from hard to soft by the time he looks back at me. We lock eyes, and for a brief second my skull buzzes. I flinch and close my eyes. And just like that, it's gone.

No one tells him he can sit, but he does anyway, with his single bagel and black water bottle. The rest of the table slowly adjusts to their usual conversations. I pick at my plate, trying to ignore the terrifying cold air that surrounds my new neighbor.

He doesn't jump in at any point, just eats his bagel slowly and occasionally his eyes flick around to examine everyone. Everyone but me. But every time his eyes even swoop over me to look at Jessica, or near me to see Angela and Eric, the buzzing — light, to my relief — returns.

After a while, I hear music from my left. It's quiet and honestly had it not been for my proximity, I may not have heard it at all. I face Edward, finding myself unable to fight a small grin. He's got his headphones in, his eyes locked on the sheet music in front of him, and elegantly he pens notes. After filling a line, he goes back and starts adding accents and all kinds of other musical notation that I've never seen before. I lean toward him, just like before. Only this time, instead of nearly falling on my ass, Edward's right arm shifts, and he pats the small space between us.

"If you get a little closer, we can share the headphones. They're on mono, so you'll hear what I've written so far. This is the second harmony." His lips barely move, and he speaks so quietly I'm not even sure I didn't think it. But I get closer anyway, and he situates the left earbud in my hand.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and give his song a listen. Strong, energizing music shakes me to the core. Violin and piano fuse, building in my heart and flowing through my arms, sparking like lightning between my fingers. My breathing catches in my throat, and I yearn for more when the track stops. I barely feel Edward's icy finger gently pull the bud from my ear.

"Was that ... did you like it, Bella?"

"That was amazing..." I let out a choked laugh and look at the others. Everyone is eyeballing me strangely, but at this moment I don't care. "You guys, he's got talent! You need to publish this," I face Edward, no doubt having the dumbest grin on my face. He blinks slowly, his brows furrowed together. What kind of reaction was he expecting? After a second, Edward smiles, softly thanks me, and returns to composing an additional part to his song.

It becomes routine after a while. Edward meets us at our table at lunch, sits at the end by me, and mostly writes his music. Sometimes he takes part in conversation, but not verbally. He'll nod, snort, and make expressions that convey speech better than speaking. Everyone warms up to him, even Jessica. It was touch-and-go for a while. She was cold, and completely ignored him. Come March, pretty well everyone was comfortable with his presence.

Well, everyone but me. Every day his eyes would darken, and his cheeks would grow more hollow. Only for him to return on Monday with flushed skin and horrific red eyes. His family kept too far away for me to see if they were experiencing the same changes, but now that I know his dad has the same eyes ... it really wouldn't be a surprise. I've grown used to him, but I can't shake the feeling that any second he could pull me into a dark room and...

"Earth to Bella! Did you hear a word I said?"

I blink and look around, getting a grasp on my surroundings. Jessica lets out a cute little sound and pouts, doing a combination of tapping her foot and crossing her arms for emphasis. I must have zoned out. Again.

"S-sorry, Jess. Care to repeat?" She sighs and stops, leading me to the side of the hallway so the others headed to their classes don't have to avoid us.

"I said, who are you going to ask to the Sadie Hawkins dance? It's in exactly two weeks." I raise my brow.

"You guys have dances on a _Tuesday _night?"

"What? Oh, no, you goofy thing! It's that Saturday. I didn't expect you to take it so literally." Jessica sways her body slightly, biting her lip. "I was just wondering if you were going to ask Mike."

"Mike? Why would I? Honestly, I probably won't even go."

"Oh? Why not?"

"You've seen me, I've got two left feet and no hand-eye coordination."

"Yeah, that's true." She bounces excitedly, her curls flying everywhere. She has to take some time to straighten her hair before we continue down the hallway.

There's a small absence of her between the end of Trig and the start of lunch. Edward is already at the table, but this time with just his drinking bottle, no food. I gather a salad and some tots and sit beside him, noting the lack of Jessica and Mike at the table. The conversation goes pretty well like normal until Mike shows up.

He's smiling, but it's forced, and plainly fake. Jessica doesn't show until after lunch, and by the red under her eyes and the reapplied make-up, her asking Mike to the dance didn't go well. I swallow hard, wanting to ask her if she's okay, but not knowing how.  
Should I hug her? Maybe ask her over? And what did he say that made her cry so hard? By the time I have even a _clue _of what to say, I'm in the shower at home, hair sudsy and bashing my forehead against the tile.

I search for her all Wednesday, asking Eric and Angela, ignoring Mike as much as possible, until lunch, and it hits me that Jessica _isn't _coming to school today. My stomach immediately sinks, fear races through, sending panicked and unorganized thoughts through my head. I race to my truck, earning two bruises on my face thanks to a pothole.

My hand touches the Thing's handle, and a honk makes me scream.

"_Bella,_ get in!" Edward leans over and opens the door, patting the old leather seat. I guess he got permission to leave too. I slip in the passenger's side and buckle up. "You know where she lives, right?"

"Uh, yeah, just two blocks down from me."

"Okay, I have _no _idea where that is, can you be more specific?" I pull up her contact on my phone and show him the screen. "That's more like it. Now hold on." I don't feel it, but looking out the window I can see just how fast he's driving. My heart races.

"Dude, slow down!"

"Can't, we're gonna hydroplane all the way to Jessica's."

"Yeah, speaking of, how did _you_ know what I was up to?" I squint at him, expecting some stuttering and an obvious excuse.

"Mike. Every time I get near him, he's whining about Jessica making such an _enormous_ deal about this dance. There's enough annoyance in his mind to piss anyone off."

"In his mind?"

" ... shit, forget I said that!"

"Nope."

His glare distracts me from the speed we're traveling at, and when I look out the window, I'm shocked to see the front of Jessica's house, **THE STANLEYS** in massive letters on the mailbox. I expect him to stay in the car, but he follows close behind, tentatively knocking on the door for me.

Jessica opens it, her face blotchy, and a little swollen. I almost don't recognize her. Without her makeup, her face is acne-ridden, and her hair is a tangled mess in a scrunchie. Even messy, she is adorable to see. She opens her mouth to speak when she realizes just who we are.

"B-Bell ... Edw ... what are you two doing here?"

"We wanted to check on you." I look up at Edward, who is nodding his head. "What happened?"

"Oh, Mike turned me down... no big deal, I mean, it's not like it's _prom_ or anything, and there are plenty of other boys in Forks, right?"

"Yeah, right," Edward agrees and clears his throat. "And between you and me and short stack here—" He pats my head, earning an elbow to the rather hard gut "—you could do way better than Mike Newton. I know a few… people who would give their left arms just to talk to you." Her eyes widen, and he takes it as a 'yes, please'. " I'll tell them to call you, or to meet you at lunch. They're close to my nephew, Jay, so you know they're trustworthy."

"Y-yeah, you're right..." Jessica opens the door fully and sniffles. "I'll be back to school tomorrow, I just ... I need some time."

"You must like him..." I reach out and offer a hug. She declines, but doesn't deny. "Jess, I'm so sorry. But don't let him get you down. You're smart, funny, and sweet. Anyone would be lucky to go to the dance with you." We spend the next little while on the porch swing, just talking about whatever comes to mind. She even listens to Edward's song in progress.

There is a beep, and Edward pulls his phone out. Then he panics.

"That was my brother... not only are we late for Bio, but he's in the office with Chief Swan and we may or may not have detention." He stands and grabs my wrist. So tightly it causes pain, and I gasp.

"Oh no! H-here, I'll come with. Maybe having me there will help get you out of trouble. I'm so sorry. Just give me a couple minutes."

Jessica takes over the explanation when we get there, the principal and a pair of exhausted men listening and nodding with flat expressions. I know Charlie is going to be mad; he hates being dragged from work. But when I look at him, I see a bit of pride in his eyes. Then I look at Dr. Cullen.

Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe I'm just paranoid. But I swear, he's got something red leaking down from the corner of his mouth. My hands shake as a familiar iron scent hits my nose. It's faint, but it's there. I make myself stare at the floor until they dismiss the three of us.

I go straight to P.E., being told by Clapp to sit out since the period is nearly over. I play on my phone, letting out a sigh of relief when Charlie texts me with a bunch of smiles and a thumbs up. I'm so thankful he understands. I sit back and watch the team Mike's on get completely creamed.

Serves the douchebag right.

There's someone leaning on my truck when I get to it. It's Tyler Crowley, with his hands in his pockets and a soft smile on his face. I stop a couple feet from the driver's door and tilt my head.

"Tyler, hey. What's up?"

"Oh, not much, I just uh ... small question. Are you going to the dance in a couple weeks?"

Oh God, don't tell me ...

"No, I won't be. I've got ... plans! A quick trip to Jacksonville, to see my mom. Yeah, I'll be leaving Friday night so, you know, won't be in Forks at all on Saturday. Sorryyyyyy." Okay, overexplained and sounded completely sketchy, but the disappointment on Tyler's face says it was enough. But he puts on a brave face, and even waves when he goes to his car.

"Well, he's got his hopes up." I don't even have to turn to know who it is.

"Seems like it. I hate to be the bitch who keeps denying him, but it's not like he owes me or I owe him. But _you _still owe me," I glance over my shoulder and wink. "And the longer you go without explaining, the more I'll press." I open the toolbox under the rear window, tossing my backpack in.

"You don't give up, do you?" Edward sounds desperate, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm as stubborn as my father. But don't worry," I turn and give him a gigantic smile, "I'll update you with each new theory."

"I can't wait ... see you tomorrow, _Bella_." He pulls his hood up and turns toward his silver car as the sun comes out. Everyone around us basks in it. I hop in The Thing.

I do my homework at the kitchen table while Charlie makes dinner. I can smell meat, which makes my stomach churn, but knowing him there will be something special for me. I can't focus on my English worksheet, though. Too annoyed. Everything is rushing through my skull at 200 miles an hour.

I have to know what the deal is with the Cullen family.

There is a sharp pain in my forehead, and I look up. Charlie is holding two plates, and, with a smug grin, he sets a veggie enchilada by my textbook. I put my homework aside and fix my glasses. Heh, I guess I completely zoned. I take a long drink of water and start eating.

"You gonna tell me what's on your mind, or do I have to make phone calls?"

"Dad, it's nothing."

"Don't you 'it's nothing' me, Isabella Marie." He wags his finger in my direction, his face severe. "I was a detective before they made me chief, I know when people have something on their mind. Is it the Cullen kid again?"

"I ... well, yeah. But it's nothing bad! Edward's been more social, actually."

"That's wonderful! No wonder Carlisle's been so happy lately. He never thought the kid would find his clique. So, if it's nothing bad, then what is it?"

"Well ..." I scratch the back of my neck. He's my dad, and he's been here longer than me. I can see two possibilities. Either he'll pat my head and laugh, or he'll sign me up for a therapist. Honestly, I think I want the latter. "Remember when I said the other students talk about how weird the Cullen family is? I'm thinking they're right, but not for whatever reason they thought."

Charlie stops mid-bite to squint at me. "What do you mean, Bells?"

"I uh ... Edward's skin is super cold, and his eyes do weird color changes ... I really think something's wrong with him, Dad. He could be sick, or maybe the doctor is doing weird things with him?" I swallow hard, waiting for Charlie's reaction. After a minute, I look up. He is leaning on his hands, deep in thought. He takes in a deep breath and sighs.

"Look, I get why you're concerned, but Bella ... don't drive yourself crazy looking for something that isn't there. He's almost blind, he has contacts, that's why his eyes do weird things. And he has a circulation issue, of course his hands are cold." He takes some bites of his chicken and continues. "But I am proud of you for accepting him into your weird little friend group. A little socialization will be good for the kid."

"Yeah, you're probably right." We eat in silence after that, me not believing a single thing he said. He wasn't oddly defensive, but everything sounded so ... rehearsed. Like he had readied himself for me to ask about Edward. The idea of my dad keeping something from me stings like salt in a fresh surface cut, but I won't back down. After I finish eating, I clean my dishes and take my homework to my bedroom — giving Charlie a kiss on the forehead before leaving.

I drop the books on my nightstand and slide over to my computer, opening a search for "cold skin, red eyes". It's nothing but pictures of women with dyed blonde hair and beauty lists. Dammit ... I change the search to "cold skin" but pause before hitting ENTER. Maybe ... "why is my child's skin ice-cold"?

Now we're getting somewhere! I open links for Meningitis and Raynaud Phenomenon, figuring I could at least eliminate an actual disease or disorder right off. I skim over the symptoms and the weird little illustrations they use so the layman can understand it easier.

Meningitis is closed in a heartbeat.

I read on Raynaud's for an hour before closing the laptop in frustration. Most everything fits, but it still doesn't explain his eyes. Or how fast he is. And honestly, his entire _body_ is ice cold, not just his hands ... I replace my laptop with my homework and glance at the clock. Nine already. Better get this done fast.

I fall asleep at my desk, homework incomplete.

I wake to the sound of screaming. I shoot straight up, the air around me rank with the stench of decay and blood. No, I'm not awake. I'm in a dream. I glance over at the bed beside me and fall back, landing on a hard tile floor.

"This is a nightmare..."

"_Is he going to make it? My son, Dr. Cullen?_"

"_I can't say for sure, Mrs. Masen. Only time will tell._" That voice ... that accent. "_You just rest. You have your own health to look out for now. Next patient..._" I look up, stunned at the sight of Carlisle Cullen, long hair pulled back, tapping a clipboard with a fountain pen. "_... Edward._"

I'm dragging myself through school the next day. After that strange dream, I couldn't make myself go to sleep, no matter what I did. I showered, I drank tea, I meditated. Nothing helped. Eric has to shake me awake after English class, along with Mr. Jameson and a fresh "Lunch Detention" slip. God, I've never had detention before ... Charlie is going to be so pissed at me.

I spend the rest of the morning in a daze, and every time my head droops I stab my hand with a pencil to keep myself awake. When lunch comes around, I have the pleasure of explaining to Jessica that I won't be eating with them today.

"You, in detention? Bella, you're a goodie-goodie!" She covers her mouth in shock, her childish eyes impossibly wide. I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose as I explain that I keep dozing off today. That makes her raise a brow. "I do that sometimes, but I've never gotten in trouble."

"Did you do it during the lecture?"

"Well no, but ..."

"Ah buh-buh! Then that's why. I'll see you later, okay?" We part ways with a wave, a Freshman teacher leading me to the detention room. She directs me to one of the many tables, only a couple occupied, saying she'll call us in to get lunch later. We're not to sleep, but we can read or do work. I don't have any work, and I'm still fighting with my own eyelids.

When she leaves, I sit in the farthest corner and stare out the window. The other kids are chatting, but they're all younger than me, and are a bit of a clique. Which is fine, I'm not interested in widening my friend circle. Especially considering I may _lose_ one or two of them to overall jerkiness and freak-factors.

The teacher calls us to go get our trays, and the Freshmen vanish in a flash. But not me, I wave her off and she leaves without a word. I'm too tired to be hungry right now. I stare out the window, at the gray sky and the blue-tinted grass. Everything looks so dead out there, even without the rain. Hell, a little rain would make things more interesting. I click my pen, waiting for the others to return. Shouldn't take too long for them to get their food.

I look at the clock on the wall after a couple minutes. It's shattered? When did that happen? I circle the room with my eyes, noting strange changes. Some lights are out, or blinking. All the desks are falling apart, the chalkboard is missing huge chunks ... what is going on?

A man walks in, his face hidden by a dingy blue hood. He picks up the chalk, points it at me, and starts writing. When he's done, he bows and leaves. I face the board, completely confused. It reads "The Hunter is coming".

" ... hunter?"

"Hey, you okay?" One of the Freshman girls pokes my cheek. I look at her, her deep blue eyes wide. "You kinda passed out there. Didn't you get some food?"

"Oh ... not hungry. But thanks. I'll be fine."

I'm a little more awake when I walk to my truck, but still completely confused by what I saw in the detention room. Was it a daydream? Or did I just fall asleep? God, I can't think. I lean against the driver's door of The Thing for a minute, trying to collect myself.

A cold hand at my shoulder makes me jump and squeak. I don't even have to look at them to know who it is.

"Bella, are you okay?" Edward asks, his hand trembling against me. "You were kinda ... zombified in Bio class. And I heard you got pelted in gym. Are you sick?" He takes a step back, pushing his hands in his pockets.

"Just tired is all. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Oh ... well, if it's any consolation, I didn't either." He chuckles at that, like it's an inside joke I'm locked out of. I glare at him, at his further darkening eyes and sickly appearance. He's so worried about me when he looks so malnourished.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Appear out of nowhere. There was literally no one around here two seconds ago.

"It isn't my fault you're the least observant person in Forks, Bella," he says with conviction. "People don't just appear, you know."

"Oh, yeah?" I glare at him, at his slight smirk, and pull out my little notebook. "Least observant person in Forks, you say? Then why is it I'm the only person who has seen the fact that your eyes change color almost every day?"

"It's the lights, Bel -"

"Why is it I'm the only person to notice the shoulder-length dents you left on my truck? Or the goddamned _handprint_ that's still on Tyler's van?"

" ..." Edward sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "It seems I was wrong. You're too observant. If you're not careful, it could get you into trouble. And please believe me when I say you would rather not be a part of this."

"Involved in _what_, Eddie? What is it you're doing that is soooo dangerous?"

"_Bella_," he practically hisses, leaning over me, "you are utterly absurd. It's not me you need to worry about, I've gotten good at this. But there are those who will ... just keep your nose where it belongs." His face softens. "You're the first friend outside my brood I've had in years, I'd rather not lose you because of your own stubborn will."

"You act like I'm toying with death here! I just want answers." My palm tingles — I've never wanted to hit someone so much before now. He looks over his shoulder and leans down, eyes severe. I hold my ground.

"You're not just 'toying' with death, you're knocking on its door." And with that, he turns on his toes and goes to the quartet waiting for him.


	6. Catalyst

I'm running through a forest, the trees too dense to see through, the sun too low to color the sky. There is a path under my feet, but it's thin and covered in hazards. I've already cut my face tripping over a root and a stone. But I have to keep going. He's right behind me, I know he is. I can see his eyes.

His empty void eyes.

And his bitter laugh.

"_Run, little girl..._" God, his voice is on the wind. "_With your heart racing, it makes you smell even more appetizing._"

He's going to kill me, he's going to ... to ...

"_Bella, run!_" I skid to a halt, turning in time to see two figures charging at each other.

"Edward?" Two seconds later I'm in my bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Not another one!

I trudge to English class, my backpack dragging behind me. I didn't realize I was over twenty minutes late until Mr. Jameson cleared his throat, barely pulling me from my daze. His arms crossed, and his face highly disappointed.

"Thank you for joining us, Isabella."

"I'm sorry, sir, my truck didn't want to start today."

"Don't even worry about it, everyone gets one free tardy from me. Just take your seat, we haven't got all day." I nod and hurry to my desk, noticing right away that Mike is on the other side of the classroom, Eric in his usual spot. He shrugs at me, and we both focus on the lesson. The only thing I pick up on is the reading is _Dracula_, the rest of the class becomes one smudgy mess.

In what feels like a second and yet is just as exhausting as a full day, I sit at the Mike-free lunch table, everyone but Edward and I chatting about the weather this weekend. No rain or overcast for 24 hours. And a temperature higher than I've heard since I've come to Forks — a full seventy degrees! I would share their enthusiasm, but God help me, I just can't.

Every two seconds, Edward's eyes are on me and the buzzing makes my eyes water. It hammers, attempting to crack my skull wide. I know Eric just said something to me, but I don't understand what. Once the buzzing vanishes, I speak up.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, are you still good for La Push on Saturday?"

"Oh ... well, I gotta talk to my dad first, but he's best friends with Billy Black, so it shouldn't be too big of a deal." I take off my glasses and lay my head in my arms. "If I don't get grounded."

"Because of yesterday? What, you _still_ haven't told him?" Jessica pipes in, her voice squeaking at the end of her questions. I groan.

"I have, but he was dead tired, so it probably hasn't clicked with him yet. With my luck, he'll be ready with a lecture when he gets home." Everyone nods and mutters in understanding, but continues to talk about the trip. Even Angela, the normally silent one, is giddy about hearing the Quileute read them _The Raven Tales_, or at least buying a copy of their book for her own.

A light tap on my shoulder causes me to turn my head. Edward is smiling at me, his eyes brighter than I've ever seen them. And his skin has ... a sickening pink hue to it. He leans over and whispers in my ear with his haunting voice.

"May we sit alone today? I want to talk to you."

I nod, moving over to one of the few empty tables with him. Why I follow him I really don't know, but the slight silence is nice. We sit down, him across from me, and his eyes on the table behind me. I take a quick peek. His family is eyeballing us, their eyes ... just as bright red as his. One theory confirmed.

"This is ... different." I say after a couple seconds.

"Well..." He pauses, and then the rest of his words come in a vomit-like rush, "since I'm already going to Hell, I may as well do it thoroughly. Know what I mean?"

"I don't have a damn clue what you mean."

"I know ... I'm honestly counting on you not knowing. It means I can drop brief hints, giving nothing away." Edward chuckles, shaking his head. "Which is just as dangerous as being outright, but I kinda like to think of it as a challenge."

"Challenge? Seriously? What the hell is this, Edward?" I groan, feeling my phone vibrate like crazy in my pocket. "Our friends seem a little miffed that we left without telling them. Why do you want to spend this one lunch period alone with me?"

"Just one lunch period? You so sure about that?" He leans in closer, whispering so quietly I barely hear his voice. "_I may not give you back_." My lip curls in discomfort, and I lean further back in my chair. "Oh, don't look so worried."

"Worried? No. No, I'm way beyond that. You still owe me answers, Edward. For how you saved me, for what your deal is. I've thought of everything logical and none of it adds up. Just what brought all this about?"

His smile slowly fades, and he lets out a soft sigh. "I decided ... when I joined the group over there, that I was going to give up. Give up hiding from you, give up controlling myself. On being this good, quiet boy I've forced myself to be — that everyone in my family has made ourselves be." His voice falters, his hands shake so violently he has to clasp them together. I can't tell what is causing his body, from hands to lips, to tremble so violently. Excitement? Fear? "But the only reason I did any of this ... is because I met you."

"Me? Why? There's nothing special about me."

" ... that's where you're wrong. I can see it in your eyes, I can feel it when you're around."

"But you won't outright tell me anything?"

"I'm not _allowed_ openly say anything, Bella. This is dangerous enough without me just breaking every rule set out for me. Well, anymore. But I _can_ lead you to a conclusion." Suddenly everything is clear. Why he won't answer me straight, why he avoided every question. They're little breadcrumbs for me to follow.

He _wants_ me to know what he is.

"I know being friends with me ... probably wasn't a consideration of yours in the beginning. And I won't lie, us being even acquaintances won't be good for you. _I_ won't be good for you."

"You sound like a cigarette ad, Edward."

"Stop distracting me!" He snarls, glaring at me. Snarls ... God, he sounds like an animal. Something on my face bothers him. His anger falls in a second and he takes in slow breaths to calm himself. "I ... I'm sorry, I'm not ... I'm not like this. Not usually."

"So, I've heard..." I push my glasses up my nose

" ... what are you thinking?"

I meet his eyes, sorrow lingering, and speak honestly. "That I think I know what you are."

"And what would that be?" He asks with a locked jaw and uneasy eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know..." In truth, what he seems to be is an impossibility. I've explored every logical route, and discarded them all. But I'm not ready to admit my true theory. Not yet.

"You can't just leave me hanging like this, Bella..."

"Sorry, Eddie, you're stuck with my 'no'." He winces, looking like I just slapped him in the face. Not knowing what I am thinking seems to pain him more than anything, making me wonder just how many layers there are to this guy.

"Do you have any idea how frustrating this is?"

"Gotta say no," my eyes narrow and I give my head a slight tilt, "What's so frustrating about it? I'm not really required to tell anyone what I'm thinking. Especially the guy who keeps leaving cryptic remarks specifically designed to lead me on a wild goose chase to find the answer to an _impossible _question. Or, you know, the guy who does something that no human can do and refuses to answer questions he promised he would." I give him the biggest, most sarcastic smile I can muster.

"You've got quite the temper, don't you?"

"Temper? Ha, no. I just don't like double standards."

He scoffs, taking a sip from his bottle. There is a faint whiff of iron in the air. "Hmm..." His eyes flick over my shoulder, and he lets out a snicker. "Might wanna text our friends back at the table."

"What?"

"Eric seems to _think _I'm being unpleasant to you — he's debating if he should to break up our little fight."

"Well now, he wouldn't be wrong. But I doubt he'd do that." I straighten my ponytail out of habit.

"I don't. I told you, most people are easy to read."

"Pssh. Everyone but me, eh?"

"Yes. Everyone but you." His mood shifts, he looks down at his tray. "I still haven't figured that one out..." His eyes follow my movements as I keep picking at my food, my annoyance slowly fading into indifference. "You aren't hungry?"

"Too tired to care, really. What about you, Mister Picks-At-A-Single-Bagel?"

"_No, I'm not_." His eyes flick to the side and his lip curls, like someone enjoying a private joke with themself. But then he grows serious. "Be sure to eat something, though, even if it's after school."

"Alright, Dad."

"Ooh, harsh." He scratches his arm, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. "Better to be the Dad Friend than the hungry one, though."

"I suppose." I eat more, chewing slowly, leaving him in silence. Edward clears his throat.

" ... you're not very talkative."

"This is the longest we've ever just talked together, Edward. I don't really know what else to say."

He nods his head, his lower lip vanishing into his mouth. With a pop, he looks at me with an open mouth and lifts a finger. Then he closes his mouth and shakes his head.

"I want to talk to you more about ..." he lowers his voice, "about what you think I _am_. But not here. May I come over tonight, after you've retired for the evening?"

"Like, once I'm in my room? You really expect my dad to let you in the house _in the middle of the night_?"

"How about this — you tell me if I can come over and leave the rest to me. Deal?"

"Well ... fine. Sure, deal. After school, just be gone by nine. Sound fair?"

"Sounds fair. And uh ... since you won't tell me your theory, allow me to say one thing to help speed the thought process along." Oh boy, here we go. "You're a writer, so I'm going to assume you also like to read. Well, in the world of literature, consider me Dorian Gray."

Now that is a big giveaway. Dilettante and hedonistic, Dorian Gray went from being a beautiful young aristocrat to a retroactively immortal murderer. It became plain to me that Edward considers himself equal to the protagonistic villain. Maybe even homicidal ... dangerous. Which is pretty well obvious, considering he can lift _vans_.

Someone to avoid. But with every cell in my body, I want, I need to understand him, understand his condition. Everything about Edward fascinates me.

And from the way his eyes wander over me like a hungry wolf, I can guess that I fascinate him. My anxiety spikes. He licks his lower lip, and I finally look away from him to see why my phone is buzzing like crazy.

The cafeteria is almost empty.

"Shit, we're going to be late!" I gather my belongings in a rush, downing what was left of my lemonade and turning toward the door. Then I paused, looking over my shoulder. "You coming, lab partner?"

"Nah, not today." Standing, he tucks his shirt back into proper place. "My brother believes it's healthy to ditch class every so often. And since he's my legal guardian, he signed an early release form for me." He winks, snapping his fingers.

"I'll see you later, then. Knowing me, I'll face plant half-way there."

I wave goodbye over my shoulder as I run to the door, first bell adding to my speed. I glance behind me, confused that he hasn't moved even an inch, and a jog to class. As I panic my way down the hall, my head spins like a top. So few questions have been answered compared to how many fresh questions are racing through my brain.

I get lucky; Mr. Molina isn't in the room yet. I settle quickly into my seat, aware that both Mike and Angela are staring at me. Mike looks resentful, Angela surprised. And both ... slightly awed. I chance a wave as Mr. Molina comes in, calling the class to order. He juggles a few small cardboard boxes in his arms, ordering Mike and Angela to pass out the contents. Then his hands clap together.

"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," he says, producing a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against his wrists sends an ominous shock down my spine. "The first should be an indicator card," he continues, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator -" he holds up something that looks like a nearly toothless hair pick "- and the third is a sterile micro-lancet. " Finally, there is a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb is invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped two objects ago. Bad vibes all around.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you. " He starts at Angela's table, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. "Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet… " He takes her hand and stabs the spike into the tip of Angela's middle finger. Instantly I cover my nose, my breathing quickens.

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs. " He squeezes her finger till the blood flows, and my stomach convulses. I gag, I clamp my eyes shut. I can almost hear the snap of people's necks turning toward me.

"And then apply it to the card," he finishes, somehow being louder than the ringing in my ears. But it overtakes his voice, and while he continues to give the why's and how's of the lesson, I feel my legs slowly become jelly hanging from the bench. I can't breathe without the awful smell assaulting my nose, my lungs. I hide my face in my arms, hoping the smells on my clothes can overpower the stench of blood.

I breathe slowly through my mouth, pressing my cheek against the icy surface of the tabletop. Stay calm, Bella. Stay calm...

"Isabella?" I hear Mr. Molina over my shoulder, the concern palpable.

"Nurse ... please..."

"I need a student to take Miss Swan to the nurse's office; now!"

I feel a soft hand on my back, and know right away who it is.

"Can you walk?" Angela asks. I nod. So long as I get out of here, I'll _crawl_.

Almost tenderly, she wraps her arm around my waist and drapes mine around her neck. And step at a time, she tows me across the campus. I keep my eyes on the floor, watching the transition from tile to concrete, to grass. It's when I know we're a good distance from Mr. Molina's eyes that I clear my throat. My free hand goes straight to my head.

"Bella?"

"Can we ... sit? Just for a second?" She guides me down to the curb, my feet on the asphalt lot. I slump over on my side, resting on the damp sidewalk. It's hard and cold, but right now that's what I need. I close my eyes, soothing a bit of the pressure behind them.

"Mmm... you're so pale, Bella." Angela whispers, squeezing my shoulder. "Well, paler than usual." I can't help but cough out a chuckle at that.

"_Bella_?" a different voice calls from the distance.

What? No, he left. I _have_ to be imagining his annoyingly familiar voice.

"What's wrong — is she hurt?" His voice is closer, cracking, and has a tinge to it. He's here alright. Can't imagine those little details. I squeeze my eyes tight and hope to die. Or, at least, not hurl on everyone.

"We were blood typing, and she just got so sick... I think she fainted." Angela's voice seems slightly further away, and I hear footsteps.

"_Bella_?" Edward's voice is right beside me, and his cold makes me shiver. "Can you hear me?"

"No." I groan, curling up tighter. "Go away."

"I was taking her to the nurse," Angela says, now sounding closer to Edward. "But she asked to stop."

"Tell Mr. Molina I took her the rest of the way. She's in excellent hands, I promise."

"I trust you."

"Nooo..." My grumbled protests are met with a vanishing sidewalk and the feeling of a solid mass on my left arm. My eyes pop open, I can see Edward's smirking face just inches above my own. He's got me cradled like a toddler, as easily as if I _was_ one.

"You look awful," he says, a brow raised. "You've got a stick in your hair."

"It's a new fashion statement." I grunt, closing my eyes again. "Please walk slower ... my stomach."

His pace changes instantly.

"So blood makes you faint? And it wasn't even your own. Wow." The idea seems to entertain him, and I bite my tongue in both ways to keep from losing my lunch on his chest. Though at the moment, the idea is funny.

Warmth brushes over us. Somehow, he opened the office door with his foot, which would be impressive if I weren't a rag-doll right now.

There's a soft gasp, and the secretary exclaims. "Oh, my!"

"She fainted during the blood typing lesson. Is the nurse in?" Edward moves again, and the next sensation change is from his wintry body to the slight chill of a vinyl cot mattress. I open my eyes, spotting him and the grandmotherly nurse standing by a medicine cabinet.

"There's always one," she says with a sage nod. Edward, meanwhile, stifles a snicker. When she looks away to write on her board, I flip him off. "Just lay down for a while, honey. It'll pass."

"Thank you," I sigh, nausea melting away.

"Is this common for you?"

"Yeah ... ever since I was a kid." He doesn't fight this snort down. The nurse glances over at him.

"You can go back to class now, Edward."

"I was told to stay with her. It'll be alright. My brother taught me how to deal with this."

"I suppose ... I have to go fill some forms for you, sweetie," she says to me with a soft smile. "I'll be right back." She bustles from the room, and Edward leans against the wall, arms crossed.

"She doesn't trust me," he says in a sing-song way. "You gonna be okay?"

I groan, waving a hand. "You were right. Or, well, your brother was right. Ditching is healthy."

"Better than almost passing out...you scared me for a moment there." He rubs the back of his neck, eyes downcast. "I thought Angela was taking your corpse to the office. Hell, I've seen _actual_ corpses with more color than you."

"Ha ..."

"I thought I'd have to don a trench coat and avenge your murder."

"You're such a fucking nerd..."

"And Angela ... I'm amazed that she let me bring you here. She doesn't seem to trust me yet."

"She said she did..." I retort.

"She didn't mean it. Every time I sit by you, she's afraid that I'll do something. That the rumors about me are true. She's afraid of me." He laughs at that, but there's no trace of amusement. I look at him.

"You don't know that, Edward."

"Yes, I do." His face falls, I can see his heart sinking to his shoes. Maybe, in some weird way, he really knows how people feel about him. What they're thinking. That would make them "easy to read". But then what makes me so different?

Actually ...

"How did you see us? You said you were going home." I can breathe normally now, and I even sit up, with my back pressed firmly against the wall.

"I was listening to a CD in my car, letting the interior warm up a bit." Such a normal answer ... it takes me off guard for a second.

The door swings open, and the nurse pokes her head in. "We've got another one," she looks at the two of us. "Sweetie, can you move?"

I hop off the cot and nod, still a little wobbly. Edward's hand grasps mine tight, trembling slightly. I look up at him, and the panic in his dark eyes tells me all I need to know.

I pull him out of the room, a sick smell wafting past us as we trade places with the nurse and the sick student. We let the door close behind us before looking at each other again.

"How did you...?"

"I smelled the blood," I try to cough the smell from my lungs. "And from your face, you could too. Figured I'd save us both the trouble." He pulls back, now eyeing me suspiciously. "What?"

"_People_ can't smell blood."

"Well, I can. I always have. The smell is disgusting, it makes me ill. It smells like rust and salt."

He just stares at me with an unfathomable expression.

"Edward?"

"It's nothing..." He looks up expectantly, and Eric enters the office. He smiles, looking from me to Edward, excited that I didn't die.

"You're alive! Thank goodness. Angela was so worried..."

"I'll be okay, so long as I don't go back. I'd just have to U-turn."

"Ha! Well, you'll be happy to know that the bell rang. Last period is starting, and mine is in here."

"Final ... gym. Dammit!"

Eric and Edward exchange a look of sympathy before Eric excuses himself to his student council duties.

"Hey," Edward leans down. "I can get you out of gym. Just sit over there and look pale." He points to the office couch and I nod. Easy said, easy done. I flop on a cushion, letting myself lay on the arm, eyes closed.

Two footfalls and a cleared throat later, Edward gets the secretary's attention.

"Ms. Cope?"

"Yes?"

"Bella has gym this hour, but I don't think she's quite up to snuff. Can you call Coach Clapp and let her know she's going home early? I'll take her myself." His voice, like melted honey, is enough to make my breath catch in my throat. And knowing him, his eyes must overwhelm the poor woman. All without him meaning to, he could likely talk himself out of a death sentence.

"Do you need an excuse, too, Edward?"

"No, I already have one. Thank you, though, Ms. Cope."

"Okay, consider it taken care of. You feel better soon, Isabella!"

Charlie is waiting for us at the door, taking me into his arms swiftly. I can only assume Ms. Cope called him when I left the nurse's office. He thanks Edward before promptly locking the door in his face. I snicker quietly. My amusement vanishes when Charlie cups my cheeks.  
A familiar odor reaches my nose, and my stomach lurches.

"How're you feeling, Bells? The lady said you were still pretty pale." In truth, I feel like I could lie down and not move for an hour. Which wouldn't be so bad, actually.

"I just want to go to bed ... please, Dad."

"I've got you, honey." He takes me into his arms, and I cling to him, my head starting to spin again. I was fine, or so I thought. But something here has the faint copper-rust scent on it. That's when I notice the dark stain carefully hidden by Charlie's jacket, and my knees give out.

I don't hear him open my door, but I feel the softness of my comforter and relax instantly.

"I'll get you some water, you just rest, Bells."

I'm asleep before he returns.

And I'm awakened by the sound of my window shutting.

"_Bella... _oh, she's asleep. Heh, cute." I hear Edward walk around, his feet patting lightly on the wooden floor. As soon as I can move, I'm kicking his balls for calling me cute... papers shuffle, his breathing catches. "Fuck, she's close. Too close ... but I can't stop her. Not now. Maybe I should go..."

Even with my stomach back in knots, I sit up and look at him with my blurry, glasses-free eyes.

"Should I call the police?" I say in a whisper, instantly regretting opening my eyes. I groan and fall back. A cool hand guides me down to the pillows, robbing me of my dramatic effect. "Damn you ..."

"Too late for that. What happened this time? I thought you were ready to run a marathon."

"Charlie ... smells like blood."

"Well, he is a cop, I'm sure there was an accident or something." He plays it off like it's nothing. "I still can't believe you react this way."

"Blood is supposed to be _inside you_."

"Pfft, well, I can't argue with _that_ logic. But God, Bella, a pricked finger won't draw hardly anything."

"Shut up..." The bed creaks beside me, I can feel the cold from his body on my bare arm. I should push him off, but I don't. Still too nauseated.

After a moment of silence, he sighed. "Sorry for uh ... well, breaking in. I'm still not over how _dead_ you looked when I came across you." His tone is somber again, and I finally recognize the hidden meaning in it. Embarrassment.

"Just don't do it again. Or at least knock. I could have been lying here naked for all you know."

"..."

"... Edward?"

"What? Oh, sorry. Just enjoying the mental image."

"Asshole."

"Only on Fridays."

We lay silent again. I tease the thought of reaching over and touching his face, stopping myself before the impulse hits my arm. Instead, Edward reaches over and tucks a bit of my hair behind my ear. I shiver, his fingers like ice.

"You have beautiful eyes... I never noticed." He smiles, his dark eyes growing soft. "Like honey and chocolate."

"Sh-shut up, Edward."

"What? Can't handle the truth?" I lean over and push on his chest. He rolls off the bed, landing on the floor without a sound. "Now that was rude," he accuses from the floor.

"Next is the window, bub." I stand and stretch, popping my back. My glasses are on my face before I can grab them, Edward's cheeky half-smile inches away from me. "You got one more strike."

"You get your sass from Charlie or your mother?" He jokes, tilting his head to the side. Weird to bring up my parents when t_his_ is supposed to be his interrogation. Might as well play along.

"Neither, I cultivated it all on my own." I walk around, grabbing my pack to take the books out and organize what homework I gathered during the day. Edward follows, his hands behind his back.

"So, what is your mother like?"

"Uh ... weird, I suppose." That's just cheating... "Eccentric, with a smile that gives everyone cavities. One day she'd be making disgusting experiments in the kitchen, the next she's pouring Debussy out of the piano."

"She sounds magnificent." I glance away, and he narrows his eyes. There is a solid minute of silence before he speaks again. " And... how old are you, Bella?"

"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen this September. Why? Is my baby-face that bad?"

"N-no, it's not that. You don't even _have a_ baby-face. It's just ... you don't seem seventeen is all." He says something under his voice, his lips scowling for a split second.

"You're not the first person to say that. My mom used to joke that I was older than her, but that's just because I'm usually quiet. Keep to myself. I prefer it that way."

"And ... why do you think she married Phil?"

"I can't believe you remember him... Okay, if I'm older than 17, then she is younger than 36. She felt things were getting dull, and Phil is what she needs. He's a little younger than her, and his adventurous attitude pulled her from a bit of a depression. It makes me glad that she's found someone."

"Do you approve?" he asks, leaning against the desk.

"I don't need to. She's my mother, she knows what's best for her. Besides, it's her life, not mine. She doesn't need my approval."

"That's awfully generous. I wonder... would she extend the same courtesy to you? No matter who you wound up with?"

"Probably? It's different for parents, you know. If I bring home a felon, she's going to say something."

"No one too scary then," he hisses, looking away. "Damn."

"Depends on your definition of scary, I guess."

"Think I could be scary?" He stares at me, a brow raised, and his lip curled into a faint smile.

"If you wanted to, but you'd have to practice. You're as terrifying as a box of kittens."

"Is that so?" His face goes blank, every feature rock hard, and serious. He leans down, his nose an inch from mine. A feeling in my gut tells me not to test the boy who can lift vans. I enjoy ignoring that feeling.

"Indeed." I scrunch my nose. "My turn to ask questions now."

"What do you want to know?" He speaks slowly, cautiously.

"Are you related to Dr. Cullen?

"No."

"So why do you all say he's your brother?"

"He ... feels like one. At least for Jasper and I. For the others, he's more of a fatherly figure. He took us all in at our worst times."

"So, are any of you related? In any way?"

"If we share any ancestry, it's millennia back."

"And your—" I hesitate for a moment, thinking about how sore this subject may be, and ask anyway, like an idiot, "your real parents?"

"They died many years ago." His tone is matter-of-fact, his face is flat. This subject is nothing to him, at least, not anymore. "Illness; nearly killed me too."

"I'm so sorry..."

"It's alright. I really don't remember them, to be honest. Too far back for my brain to keep."

"Oh? How far?" He smirks, biting his lip in consideration.

"Longer than I want to say."

"I'm guessing you were a little kid, then." He shakes his head.

"Sometimes I wish it was back then, my life would be drastically different. I may be under a proper headstone, if so." Edward's hands convulse. He raises one, watching it tremble like it isn't his. "... but then I never would have met my new family, I never would have met _you_. Both would be tragedies in their own right."

I shake my head. That is the most melodramatic statement I have ever heard. Good grief, Edward.

"Why can't you tell me what you are?" I cut to the chase, not wanting to delay with mundane questions any further. Edward opens his mouth, then closes it. He rubs his neck, eyes closed tight.

"Because ... I'm not allowed."

"You said that before ... why aren't you allowed?"

"I don't ... know. At least, not the actual reasons. It's just what I was told, a long time ago, and it stuck with me. You don't tell humans, they cannot know, they don't _matter_." He hisses through his teeth. "Frankly, I just want to grab you by the shirt and scream it at the top of my lungs. But this habit is impossible for me to break."

" ... but you admit that ..." Oh God, am I really going to say this? "You are _not_ human? At all. Just you."

Edward takes a breath and nods. "I'm not. None of us are. Not Carlisle, not Rosalie, not Emmett. No one. But you already knew that, didn't you? You've got everything you've seen about me written. You're on the right track. Keep going. I'll see you in class _... __ma belle_." He winks and, in a blink, he's gone — my window is wide open, the curtains billowing in the breeze.

What have I gotten myself into?


	7. The Girl From La Push

I stare up at my ceiling, mind blank, quiet music playing in the background. I want to relax, get my work done. But after what I just saw it's impossible. I look out the window again, at my truck just sitting in the driveway. The truck Charlie and I left at the school when Edward brought me home. My loud as a bomb truck.

There is ... absolutely _no way_ Edward could have gotten it here without me hearing it. Not a single way! That engine can be heard nation wide. I take off my glasses and rub my eye. I have to face the impossible, face Edward's own admission.

He isn't human.

As soon as I get to school, people from Bio are making fainting comments. Even a handful of Freshman crack a joke in my direction. Jessica and Angela stand by my side during the class changes, glaring daggers at anyone who even snickers in my direction. That gives me a bit of a boost, and helped me get to Trig.

Then Jessica smiles at me, and I remember that I am trapped with her for half an hour.

"So, what did you and Edward talk about yesterday?" She asks, leaning closer during our free time. I tap my pencil against the paper, trying to figure out the formula used to create the way-too complicated graph in the book.

"Just to talk. We joked, we goofed, we talked about Bio class. Then we parted ways."

"You looked kinda annoyed, though."

"Yeah, he's super annoying sometimes," I click my tongue and turn the page.

"Good point. God, this is all so weird. He's attached himself to you since the van incident. Before now he never sat with anyone but his family."

His family who he isn't at all related to...

"Huh, I wonder why. You could always ask him."

"_What_? Me talk to Edward Cullen? Why the hell would I do that?" I shrug.

"Beats watching him from the other side of the table. At least then you'd know something about him." She seems a little annoyed at that. With a flip of her dark curls, she suddenly decides her own class work was more important that whispering about Edward with me. I feel a pang of guilt for dodging her questions like bullets, but there isn't much I can say without weirding her out.

Jessica chatters all the way to lunch, mentioning how good the weather is going to be this weekend and how she and Angela were thinking about La Push. But then we enter the cafeteria, and she stops in place.

"Jess, you okay?"

"Look at our table ... _tables_."

I hesitate, but I look. Eric, Angela, a handful of kids who sit too far away for me to remember their names, Edward, and the other Cullens. Wait ... the _other Cullens?!_

"There she _iiiss_! Edward, say hi!" Alice's voice cuts through the mundane chatter of the lunchroom. She's leaned over the table, flicking his forehead repeatedly, much to the amusement of Emmett, who is either taking pictures or videoing it on his phone. I look at the space in front of Alice — none of the Cullens have food. Just massive, black water bottles.

Jessica drags me to get our lunches. By the time I get to my place beside Edward, I think Alice has flicked a dent into his forehead. I glance at his face and have to choke down a snort. God, the amount of anger in his furrowed brows is almost tangible. He tilts his head up and grabs her wrist. Alice, to no one's surprise, giggles.

"Alice, I'm trying to focus here." His eyes narrow for a second and then grow wide, a pink tinge kissing his cheeks. " ... I swear to God, Alice..."

"Well, _excuse me_ for thinking you should greet your friend, Eddie!" She plops back in her seat, adjusting her empty-framed glasses and wagging a brow.

"Don't worry about it," Jessica pipes up, her eyes locked on Alice. "We're used to Edward being the silent judge of the lunch table."

"Pfft, silent judge... I like the sound of that." Edward snorts, giving Jessica a nod of approval. "Most badass nickname I've had in a while."

"Oh, come on," everyone turns to Emmett, "Cougar is tough as Hell!" Jasper is struggling not to laugh beside him, his shoulders hopping quickly.

"The connotation of such a nickname is _shameful_, Em, and you know it."

During the rest of the period, the only Cullens who don't somehow include themselves in conversation are Edward and Rosalie. Now Edward I'm used to, but Rosalie ... something about the way she continually watched me. It wasn't angry or with hate; it was ... almost curious. Like she expected something to happen at any second.

Do they know that I know? And if they do, are they expecting me to drop the bomb at any second? Well, this is one time I am _glad_ to disappoint.

Charlie takes us to a small diner to eat, his smile a little too wide for his normal self. As we eat, his foot taps at 100 miles-per-hour, and he keeps checking the neon clock on the wall every ten seconds. It's enough to drive the waitress crazy. I wonder, with a mouth full of mac-n-cheese, just what has got him on such an edge. Heh, maybe he's figuring out how to punish me for the detention I had. Half-way done with his burger, Charlie speaks.

"Carlisle called me earlier. Said that his kids have pretty well fallen in love with you."

"I ... what?"

"Well, that's how I took it, anyway." He shrugs before continuing. "It took Edward forever to convince them to sit at your table, apparently. I know neither of you are very social, but according to Alice — who is very loud and loves interrupting Carlisle's phone calls — she, Jasper, and even Emmett are just crazy about you and your group of friends as her uncle is."

"Oh ... wow, that's kinda surprising."

"What got me was that _Rosalie _spoke up in your favor. Every time I've gotten near that girl, she clams up and closes herself off... I don't know if she's shy or anxious or if ... if something happened to her, but from Carlisle's surprised reaction, you must've done something awesome."

The only thing I can remember doing was eating my tater tots and not speaking very much. I guess that's a good thing in the mind of Rosalie Hale. Maybe Monday will clear things up.

"I remember when the family first moved here. The eldest boy, Jasper, spent most of his free time volunteering with me at the middle and elementary schools. Jasper has this strange way with kids — keeps them quiet and awake through everything." That's odd. I remember how I was at that age. Puberty was hell, and so was being around hormonal tweens. Growing bodies and changes in sleep needs meant everyone was napping during and between classes, especially at lunch. It's a part of development. Never once was anyone fully awake and focused.

I wonder how he does that...

"And as for your uh ... sleeping in class." I knew he wouldn't forget. Dammit! "Strike two, little lady. Anymore detentions and you lose, uh ... your cell. Wait ... shit, you need that when you're at school ... and for Renee ... and I can't take your computer, you definitely need that for school."

"Compromise — you ground me from going to La Push tomorrow with my friends." I hold my hands up in offering. "Seems like a fair trade to me. And that way I can give them a reason for not going."

"... you realize it _isn't_ a punishment if you didn't want to go anyway, Bells." He smirks and wags his fork at me. "Just for that, you've got no choice but to go to La Push now. If I catch you at home before sundown, I'll ground you to the living room for a week."

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."

I want to sleep in today. I don't have to meet Angela at the school until two, and since I've got no choice but to go, having some extended alone time will give me the energy I need to survive. But an unusual brightness prevents any sleep. I glare at my window to see light streaming through.

And without thinking, I run to the window and gape at the clear, blue sky. At the warm, welcoming sun. It seems ... lower in the sky than in Phoenix. But it's there! I squeal and cling to the windowsill. I don't want to leave, for fear of the golden ball vanishing forever, but Mother Nature has other plans, and I have to run to the single bathroom before Charlie does. Miraculously, I beat him there, but only by a second. Pretty sure I just knocked him over... heh, whoops.

The warmth that fills my cheeks through the Thing's windshield sends me to Renee's backyard, just lying in the grass and watching the clouds go by.

Next to Angela's little car is Tyler's newly fixed van. Watching everyone just hanging around it, I get the uncomfortable feeling that we're going to carpool. But then I notice a couple more boys running over with surfboards under their arms, and a bit of hope creeps in. Definitely too many people to cram in there safely. I park beside Angela and step out.

"Bella, hey!" Angela hugs me tight. "I'm so glad you could make it. You and Jess are gonna be riding with me, okay? The guys are taking Tyler's van."

"Sounds perfect," I say with relief, brushing off my t-shirt. Angela's eyes flick over me, looking strangely confused. "What, do I have a stain?"

"No, it's not that. I just figured you'd come in shorts or something. A black shirt and some jeans are hardly beach clothes."

"You have your beach wardrobe, and I have mine." She laughs, waving Jessica over from the van.

"Fair enough. C'mon, let's get a head start. These dunces spending an eternity eating Tyler's Twizzler stash."

I slide into the backseat, content to stare out the window while Angela drives. It's about a fifteen-minute ride, but with the gorgeous forest enveloping and the Quillayute River snaking under us, it feels like an eternity.

An eternity I don't want to end. We pass the sign to La Push and a handful of memories flood back to me. Splashing along the shoreline, watching Billy make a canoe by hand, watching the other kids play out the Quileute origin legend just for fun ... God, I've missed this place.

Once we shift into park, the girls bolt toward the ocean, squealing and laughing right before two big splashes hit my ears. I look along the crescent sandbar, watching the boys start a little base camp close to where Angela has poured water on Jessica's head. Even in the sunlight, the water is a dark gray, white-capped and heaving on the rocky shore. In the distance, islands rise from the abyss, reaching for the sky in uneven summits with their crowns of fir.

Along the thin sand border, toward the water's edge, smooth stones in vast colors stretch the entire beach, quickly becoming the background of too many selfies and gasps of awe. I don't want to kill the mood, but I'm sure the signs asked that no one photograph La Push... maybe I read wrong. I walk along the stones, watching the sea green and blue gray marble in with bleach white and terracotta, my red shoes cutting through the earthen colors like a knife. All around I can see driftwood trees, some in piles and some by their lonesome, no doubt thousands of years old, that now call First Beach their last resting place.

I spot a cluster of clouds eerily creeping in from the west, but at this point I don't think even a thunderstorm could pull me away

Eric waves me over, pointing the little pyramid of driftwood sticks he and a couple others made in a small, portable fire pit. I walk over, catching his little giggles and excitement from ten feet away. He whistles to Tyler, who tosses him one of those long-nosed lighters. His ease catching it is impressive.

"Quick question; you ever seen a driftwood flame?"

"Mm, don't think so. Dad would always get wood from the Blacks when we came here, and they got it from the forest."

"Then you're gonna _love_ this!" He ignites the lighter and sets the newspaper atop the wood aflame. A few seconds of weak crackles and the fire builds into something unexpected. I sit on a pulled over stone and stare at it, my mouth hanging open.

"Oh my God, it's purple! Is that from the sea salt?"

"Yeah, it is. Pretty, ain't it?" He lights one more piece, placing it where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then sits by me. "I uh ... got a call from Mike. You probably noticed he hasn't been around lately."

"I have, but I didn't want to mention it for — " we both glance at Jessica, who is sitting with the waves gently splashing her feet " — obvious reasons. What did he have to say?"

"Well ... he got uncomfortable when Edward came to our table, but was going to let it go so he could keep talking to _you_." He lets out a strained chuckle, shrugging, "dude hasn't shown interest in any girl at our school, but then you catch his eye and you shut him down."

"Wait, so he blames _me_ for him not sitting with us?"

"You, and Edward, and Jessica. Mostly the last two, since he seems to think they turned you against him." Eric shakes his head, eyes scrunched together. "Which, in my opinion, is utter bullshit. I'm sure he'll come around as soon as his salt runs out."

"Maybe. Though it'd be at a cost to him. For being such an ass, he's going to owe us all some tater tots." We laugh for a minute, but it's not cheerful. I feel scummy. If it weren't for me, Mike would still be in his friend group, and Edward wouldn't be more despised by him.

After a few minutes roasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories, a group of Quileute teens burst out of the surrounding forest, laughing and pushing each other playfully. Four boys wave over to us, settling around our fire before most of us get the chance to speak.

I cling to Angela — to her calm aura and preference for silence. We all eat, listen to the chatter, but I find myself comfortably lost in thought. Everything feels disjointed here. Like time is taking snapshots that come out either crystal clear or completely blurred. Single, static images etch into my brain. Like when Julie Black removes her hood and sits beside Angela and I.

"I figured you'd call before dropping in on me, Bella."

"I figured you'd have more common sense than that, Jules." She feints a shot to the heart.

"Touché! So, how you liking the beach? Been a while since you've been here, hasn't it?"

"Feels like ages, but it's barely changed. Except maybe the driftwood. That always changes."

"So has the ocean, Bella." Julie points out to the water, her bracelets making soft clicks. "You never see the same ocean, and you never see the same people."

"What, did your dad teach you how to be cryptic when he helped you master the man-bun?" I reach up and flick her poorly constructed knot of hair on her head. Julie bats my hand away, sticking her tongue out.

"It's a topknot!" Her friends cackle, pointing at her and falling over dramatically on the sand. "Go to hell, you two."

"Speaking of pairs, did your sisters come with you?" My memories of them revolve around SpongeBob and Barbie doll fights. And even mild torture of said Barbies.

"Nah," Julie shakes her head, scratching the back of her neck. "Rachel got a scholarship to Washington State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer. She's holed up in Hawai'i with him now."

"Oh, wow. Married..." Jeez ... Rebecca's only a year older than me, and she's already _married_? Whatever happened to living your life before settling down? Oh well, her life, not mine.

"So, uh ... how do you like the truck?"

"I love it! The Thing is awesome, it runs fantastic, and so smooth."

"Yeah, my only issue was how slow it is," she laughs. "I'm was so relieved when Charlie bought it. Dad wouldn't dare let me work on another vehicle with, what, _The Thing_, sitting in our yard."

"Oh, cut it some slack, it's not that slow."

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"Well, no, but I haven't needed to."

"Good. Don't get into any races."

I snort, flicking her ear lightly. "Smartass. But hey, it does great in a collision," I hold a finger up, Julie nodding.

"You got me there. I don't think a tank could take out that old monster, though. Maybe Superman or the Hulk." We laugh so hard we need a moment to catch our breath, the two guys from across the way looking over with pleased smiles. I guess Julie isn't normally so social, or maybe to them her wrinkled nose and wide smile is cute. I'll never truly know.

"So, you build cars?"

"When I have free time. And parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" she adds jokingly. I faux thinking, tapping my chin and letting out a little 'hum' of consideration.

"I don't even know what that is, but I'll keep an eye out anyway." She flashes a sweet, appreciative smile that is growing on me. It amazes me how easy it is to talk to her, I'm getting a slight sense of déjà vu. Though ... heh, at least it's just comfortable, and less word vomit like with ...

"You two know each other?" Angela asks, marshmallow fluff stuck to one of her cheeks. Julie smiles, handing Angela a handkerchief from her pocket. "Oh, thank you."

"We've sort of known each other since I was born. She visited my house a lot during her younger years."

"Aww, how cute!" I roll my eyes, but don't force down the smile that her little giggles bring. After a second, she collects herself and gestures to the boys beside her. "I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone invite them?"

"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tallest of the Quileute boys asks, looking a little tense. Julie sighs softly, muttering under her breath. What the ...?

"Uh-huh, they're good friends of ours. Well, Edward is, the others have kinda migrated over." The boy shakes his head, eyes serious.

"_The Cullens don't come here_," he says in a tone that closed the subject. Then he clears his throat. "At least, not without reason." Angela pales and nods, turning her attention to Tyler and Eric. I stare at the guy, uneasy with confusion. He looks away from us, toward the forest across the way. The way he said that ... it's like they aren't _allowed_ to come here. I have to know more.

"Forks driving you insane yet?" Julie asks, almost glaring at her friends. Her expression changes to happiness when she turns to me.

"Oh, I'd say that's an _understatement_." She grins understandingly. The boy's statement is still driving me crazy. I consider just asking outright what he meant by that, but my gut says that it is a bad move. Julie lays her hand on my shoulder, opening up an opportunity.

"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" She asks, nodding over to the shore. "I need to stretch my legs." We spring up without speaking, hands deep in our pockets.

As we walk north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood wall, the clouds finally close ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop. My first with is for the sun to return. My second is for Julie to explain what the deal with the Cullens is.

"So, you're, what, sixteen?" She asks, kicking a stone toward the water. It skips a couple feet, making us both freeze for a moment. "Holy shit, that was awesome."

"That it was. And no, not anymore. I'll be eighteen this September."

"Wait, seriously? No way! I always thought you were closer to my age than my sisters'."

"I'm short for my age."

"More like puny. I've seen Hobbits taller than—"

"I will kick you, and it will hurt."

"Okay, I'll retreat... I'm sorry about Sam. He's a little," she wiggles her hand, "meh when it comes to the Cullen family. I mean, he's right, they aren't _supposed _to come on Quileute land, but I think everyone blows it out of proportion."

"Why not?" I prod, leaning in. She looks down at me and backs away a little.

"I'm really not supposed to talk about that..."

"You've been talking about it. And hey, cross my heart, I won't tell a soul." Julie looks toward the group by the fire. She huffs and nods, lowering her voice.

"Do you like scary stories?" she asks ominously.

"I love them," I answer, no ounce of lie to be detected.

Julie strolls to a nearby driftwood tree that has its roots sticking out like the pale legs of a giant, dead spider. She perches on one of the twisted roots while I sit beneath her on the body of the tree. She stares down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of her thin lips. Right away I can tell that she wants to set the mood for this. What a _dork_.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from — the Quileute, I mean?" she starts. I think for a moment, faintly recalling a carving Billy showed me when telling the origin of the Quileute to Charlie and I.

"I think Billy mentioned wolves."

"You're on the right track," she teases. "There are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Great Flood. The ancient Quileute tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive, like Noah and the ark for a quick comparison." She smiles, her face and voice showing her love for the tale she's weaving. "Another claims we descended directly from wolves — and that the wolves are our brothers still.

"But all the same, we have our enemies," her voice drops even further.

"Like?"

"The natural enemies of what you would call the werewolf. And there is only one creature that the werewolf despises even more than itself."

"Did you just say _werewolf_? As in 'becomes a wolf every full moon' werewolf?" I had to look panicked at this point, my eyes wide. Oh, no... oh noooooo. Don't you fucking say it, Julie.

"Supposedly. Now, I'm not saying we can turn into werewolves or just plain wolves or anything like that," she waves her hands in front of her face, dismissing the ridiculous idea, "but what I do know is the wolf population of La Push has _never_ harmed our homes, businesses, or people. I cannot, however, confirm or deny the uh ... werewolf angle. But what I _can_ say is that this is where the Cullen family comes in."

Julie jumps down, sitting beside me. "See, when my great-grandfather Ephraim was the chief, he would tell my dad of the Enemy of the Wolf, and how a pair of them once terrorized our reservation when he was a kid. So when he was an adult, more showing up was enough to put the entire nation on edge. But according to him, this group was different. They would feed on the animals of the forest rather than the more _convenient_ humans of both the tribe and the nearby white colonies."

This sounds too familiar, like a horror movie trope gone wrong ... I'm liking this less and less.

"Because there is always a risk, though, they made a pact with him. Until the end of time, they would stay off all Quileute land, promise to keep our members protected, and make sure that no fights would occur without provocation."

"So ... the _Cullens_ are related to these ancient enemies of the werewolf?"

She shakes her head. "See, that's where _I _got confused too. They aren't descended or related to them. They are the _same people_."

"That's impossible ... no person could," I stop, Edward's words rushing back to me, "but they aren't human..."

"Heh, what? Wait, do ... Bella, what do you know?" Julie's voice is devoid of fun, her dark eyes wide and locked on me. "What—?"

"Is there any more to the story? Please, I _need _to know..."

"Uh, y-yeah, a little. There are more of them now," she says, her voice cracking from tension, "a pair that appeared one day. But the rest are the same. My great-grandfather said their leader was Carlisle, and that he was the one who helped create the treaty. He'd been here and gone before the colonizers stole our lands."

"And the Enemy of the Wolf ... what are they?"

"Isn't it obvious? Leeches, blood drinkers."

"_Vampires_." We say in unison. Her face pales significantly, and I feel my fingers chilling to the bone. My stomach churns. I have to face the facts, and I hate every syllable of that. I clutch my hands into fists and look at Julie.

"Bella, are you okay? It was just a story, I promise. As far as I know, the treaty is just a scary story my dad made up. Dr. Cullen visits all the time with his family, mostly to check up on our clinic. Werewolves and vampires are just myths." She chuckles, but there is no humor. Not in her laugh. Not in my face. We sit in silence for a moment before something pops up behind Julie's eyes. "... you know something, don't you? Something bad."

I stay silent. Julie sighs.

"Well, I better get going. Your friends are yelling for you over there." She stands and squeezes my shoulder. "Whatever you've gotten into, stay safe, Bella."

"... yeah, you too, Jules."

I pull up my hood and I tramp across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops fall, making black spots on the stone where they land. I crawl into Jessica's back seat, laying across it like a tired cat. Angela and Jessica chitter in the front seat, taking a picture of me when they figure I'm asleep. I slide my earbuds in, figuring the ride home is going to feel ten times longer than it really is. I swallow hard and whisper to myself.

"Edward Cullen is a vampire..."


	8. Part & Parcel

I stay on the front porch for a while after getting home, just sta1ring at the road, eyes barely following every car that rushes by. I have homework. I have responsibilities. But I can't move. Not ... not after knowing. But it's impossible, right? Literally impossible. Vampires can't exist, they just can't.

The light of Charlie's cruiser illuminates my still sandy sneakers, his footfalls hitting my ears like glass on stone. He sits beside me, not saying anything.

After a moment, he puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

"Billy and Carlisle called me at the station. It seems like I owe you an explanation or two. Let's go in, we'll get some ice cream and talk it over."

" ... you knew? The entire time?"

"I — inside, c'mon." I stand, ambling and with short steps. Charlie goes on ahead of me, talking to himself, throwing down a file on the dining table before going to the fridge. "Read the file. Since you know the basics, you deserve to know the reality."

I sit at the table, hands shaking as I slowly open the two-inch-thick file marked **CASE FILE: ANIMALS** and examine the contents. I remember a few of these cases. We blamed them on bears because of the brutality of the kills, but ... looking at the crime scene photos I know that is a lie. There's no blood, so signs of struggle. The only thing to show that the deaths weren't just natural is the bodies. I set them all side-by-side, my mouth going dry.

Mummified. Drained of all fluids, the hair torn out in clumps, and entire chunks of their upper body torn out. I push the pictures away, staring at Charlie in horror as he sits across the table. He slides a bowl of chocolate ice cream to me and sighs.

"I reckon you have some questions for me, eh Bells?"

"So you knew? About the Cullens."

"I've known since I was a kid. Carlisle helped me survive a measles outbreak, I was five. Edward was his co-worker. The only difference is the hairstyles and names they go by." Charlie weaves his fingers together, his body never relaxing. "I hoped you'd never find out. But, as Billy put it, your detective skills put Batman to shame."

"To my discredit, I never would have cared had Edward not stopped me from being crushed by a van."

"Yeah, he got chewed out for that. Esme told me in full detail." His lips curl up slightly, his eyes locked on his hands. "Being a vampire, I'm sure he was just thinking about what would happen if all the uh ... th-the blood got everywhere, but all the same, my baby's alive and I'll never be done thanking him for that."

"Aw, Dad..." I reach over and take his hand, squeezing gently. He shakes his head, leaving his hand in place. Charlie swallows hard and continues.

"Carlisle Cullen was the first to confirm my suspicion when the men I knew as Doctors Michael Carlson and Edmund Glass just show up, pretending to be adopted brothers. I confronted them privately, but all I got was a _'who the fuck are you?' _stare. About a week later, I get a call from Billy, explaining almost everything. But he left it to me to outright say the word."

"Vampire..."

"Yeah... vampire. Since Carlisle now found an ally within the system, we've been working together on these cases. We hide the C.O.D. from the community, rehydrate the corpses, and everyone in our corner of Washington goes on like nothing is wrong."

"The corner ... so you don't just operate in Forks?"

"I wish... I wouldn't be gone quite so long if we did." He takes the files and pulls out a few documents, written by hand in the most chicken-scratch pen I've ever seen. I almost blame Charlie, before remembering his blocky, straight handwriting. "Carlisle wrote these up after examining the corpses, telling me exactly who the vampire is and where they'd be going next."

"How could he know all that?"

"That I don't know. I don't dig, and they all appreciate that."

"Oh, alright..."

"Bella ... did Julie tell you the Cullens are vampires?"

"She didn't have to. I came to the conclusion myself a while ago, all she did was add fuel to the fire."

"Good, good. Billy just wanted to make sure the treaty hasn't been broken. Though, knowing him and Carlisle, they'll probably renegotiate it again, now that _two _outsiders know the truth."

We sit for a while in silence, eating ice cream and staring into space. After about twenty minutes, Charlie excuses himself to bed, and I follow in suit. I'll tackle the ice cream dishes tomorrow. Maybe.

I lock the door as soon as I close it. I hook myself up to my iPod, not even caring that my light is still on, and dive into the plush, purple comforter on my bed. I hit the Shuffle button and close my eyes tight. My heart beats to the bass line, and while the high volume I'm forcing on myself makes my ears want to bleed, it's worth it to hear the smooth singing and instrumentals.

It's not the most positive or uplifting song, but it's soothing enough to relax my electric nerves. I press the repeat button, not wanting this ease to be erased by a sudden jolt of heavy electric guitar. By the third play-through, I can lip-sync every word, even the lines in French. I feel the sudden urge to jump out of bed and dance like an idiot. Instead, I lay a pillow over my face and concentrate on making the music the only thing in my brain.

It works. After twenty minutes, the only thing I can think of is the song. I hum along even as I fall into a deep, deep sleep.

I open my eyes to a familiar place. I look around the deep, dark green forest of Forks, hearing water in the distance, smelling the salt deep in the air. My entire body shivers with want. If I find that ocean, I'll see the sun. God, please give me the sun! I race toward the sound, leaping over obstacles with ease. I can almost see the waves when Julie Black appears at my side, grabbing my arm tight.

"Jules? What's wrong?" Her face is equal parts frightened and infuriated as she pulls against my resistance. But I fight anyway, not caring if I get bruised or cut. I can't go back to the dark...

"_You have to run, Bella! You have to escape_!" She pleas with me, taking my hand in both of hers.

"_This way, Bella!_" Charlie appears at the very edge of the trees, waving Julie and me over before scanning the area around us. I fight her grasp, desperate now to find the sun. "_Bella, please, come back!_" My dad cries out.

"No!" Julie collapses, her entire body twitching and convulsing violently. I take a step back, gawking in horror. Black fur sprouts from her limbs, her clothes tear as her body grows to twice normal size. A massive, humanoid wolf pants from the ground, watching me with tear-filled brown eyes. She points toward the shore, toward the sun, growling weakly.

I follow Julie's... finger. But whatever she's pointing at is obscured by the light. I squint, moving closer.

"_Bella, run! Don't let him catch you!_" Charlie cries out again from behind me. A rush of footfalls makes me freeze, and Charlie is beside me, his handgun aimed right at the person slowly emerging from the light. "_I said run, dammit!_"

"What's going on? Who is that?"

"_Bella ..._" The shape whispers to me, holding its hand out. "_Come to me, trust me._"

I take a step forward, spotting a golden-red gleam of hair. Is that ... Edward? I rush to him, wanting to see more. Charlie screams behind me and fires. The bullet whips past my head, striking the shape in the shoulder. He leans over, and that's when I realize my mistake.

His long, blonde tangles do nothing to hide his razor-sharp, shark-like teeth from my view. His eyes, cold and black as the void, stare up at me. With lust? With hunger? His narrow face splits into a demonic smile. Oh God... he's only inches away now...

"_All mine..._" He lunges at me.

My sudden movement makes my iPod crash on the wooden floor. I choke down the scream that threatens to vomit out, not wanting to frighten Charlie. I look around, trying to gather my bearings. The light in the room is dim but on, and I'm still fully dressed, shoes and glasses included. I glower at the clock on my dresser; 3:47 am.

I fall back and roll onto my face, kicking off my shoes and setting my glasses beside me. I'm too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep. I roll back over and slide out of my jeans, hurling them to the floor beside my bed as I fight to stay horizontal. I can feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of my skull, and I rip the band from its end, fluffing the hair out to the sides of my head. I flop the pillow back over my eyes.

It's all useless. My subconscious keeps replaying the images I've been trying so desperately to avoid. I'd face them either way at this point.

First things first, I sit up and try to think of various ways to distract myself. I grab my bathroom bag and take as long a shower as I can manage, and even then, it is too short for comfort. I blow dry my hair, file my nails down flat, and even take the time to scrub my face with anti-acne soap. Before I know it, I'm completely out of things to do in the small bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I cross back to my room, startled by Charlie's snoring from the other end of the hall. That man could wake the dead.

I dress slowly in my most comfy clothes and then make my bed. A complete waste of time, but that's the point. I can't put it off any longer. I open my laptop and turn it on, my eyes catching the analog clock on the wall. Almost five o'clock. Charlie will get up soon. I grab my headphones for some background music and check the screen. Every tab is something different — mind-reading, impossible speed, every box that Edward checked off long before I finally scribbled in vampire.

Even now, with every confirmation I've had, just thinking the word feels impossible.

_Vampire_.

Before I can think, I search for the cursed word. Everywhere I look there are fangirls squealing, Christians screaming, and art so smutty even a pornographer would turn pink. But after a bit of scrolling, I come across a site that seems promising. Vampires A-Z. My confirmation appears in the form of two quotes on the first page.

"The vampire is an outsider. He's the perfect metaphor for those things. He's someone who looks human and sounds human, but is not human, so he's always on the margins." — ANNE RICE, author of _Interview with a Vampire._

"But first, on earth as vampire sent,

Thy corpse shall from its tomb be rent,

Then ghastly haunt thy native place,

And suck the blood of all thy race;

There from thy daughter, sister, wife,

At midnight drain the stream of life;

Yet loathe the banquet which perforce

Must feed thy livid living corpse." — LORD BYRON, _The Giaour_

The site is littered with various vampire myths from around the world, alphabetized and ready for clicking. I skim through the descriptions, noting the more unusual myths like the Danag and Jiangshi for leisure reading later. From what I read, a lot of them centered on demonizing sexual women, and having them eat children to prove how evil they are. I pass them by, looking for anything that sounds familiar.

Only three entries really catch my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, and the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight. And one other, but they define it in one statement.

Stregoni Benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.

I write everything that lines up with my observations, only getting frustrated at the final note. All of them are marked as having a fang, and as far as I know, every Cullen has human-like teeth. But everything else ... beauty, ghastly pale skin, strange eye colors. Then Julie's criteria: enemy of the werewolf, cold skin, immortal, blood drinker. I mean sure, I've no proof of my own that they are immortal, or that they drink blood, but considering Charlie himself said they are ... but there is one detail that matches nothing, from myth, movie, or truth. I bite my lip and groan, rubbing my temples.

Vampires cannot come out in the daylight, they turn to _ash_. Yet I've seen all of them outside during the day without so much as sunglasses or hoods on for protection. They're supposed to sleep during the day, in coffins.

Aggravated, I close the computer and pull out my headphones, my eyes sore from the glasses-free strain.

Through my irritation, I'm flooded with overwhelming embarrassment. This is beyond stupid... every bit of this. Vampires can't be real, and if they're real, then maybe the werewolves Julie mentioned are too. What other myth is real then? Mermaids? Bigfoot? _Aliens?!_ It's all too much.

That's it. I've got to get out of the house.

I strip, pulling on some jeans and a flannel, not caring about a bra, or looking at all presentable. I trudge down the stairs in my hiking boots, buttoning my shirt as I go. I look at the dimly lit outside through the living room window, the scent of frying eggs hitting my nose. I look to the kitchen. Charlie is leaned over the stove-top, humming softly with two plates on the counter beside him.

"Up already? I was about to come a-knockin'. Breakfast?" He smiles at me, still in his pjs. He looks me over, no doubt noticing how bedraggled I look, but says nothing.

"Sounds great, actually. But uh ... I thought you and Billy were going fishing today. You know, before the whole ... meeting thing."

"Oh, we are, but the overcast is a telltale sign of rain. Shocking, I know. We waited until the showers were over to go. The fish ain't going anywhere." Knowing this to be true, I slide onto my chair, a glass of apple juice ready for me and a fork to my right.

He was ready for a while. I guess he didn't get any sleep either.

Charlie plates the food from the stove, setting mine in front of me and his across the small table. We stay silent, the only sound is our chewing and the occasional gulp from our drinks. We've finished eating and cleaned up by the time the rain stops. Charlie kisses my forehead before changing and heading off with Billy. There's just something about how he smiles when even thinking about him ... it's adorable. I wait about twenty minutes before going outside myself, not wanting him to suspect anything. But knowing them, I'll be back _long _before he will.

I walk east, ignoring my truck and the puddles of mud all the way across the yard. The tree line watches me break its apparent impenetrable barrier, and before long I'm deep enough for no sign of civilization to meet my gaze. All I hear is the squish of the supersaturated earth beneath my boots and the random cries of the jays.

I stay along the thin ribbon of trail. I won't take the risk of just walking without a guide. Even without the vampire factor, being lost in the forest is not ideal. And I can just see myself eternally wandering these trees long after my corpse has become dust... The trail winds deeper and deeper into the forest, snaking around spruces and hemlocks. I'm only vaguely aware of the surrounding trees, my eyes stay trained on my feet and the path, the barely noticeable ones that went in other directions.

There are many I don't know, and others I can't be sure about because they are covered in green parasites.

I follow the trail as long as my fear and annoyance allow me. As it ebbs, I slow to a stop. A few drops of moisture trickle down from the canopy, but I can't tell if it's the beginning of another sprinkling or just pooled water finally freed from the leaves. A recently fallen tree, the only fallen log not blanketed in moss, lays against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I step over the ferns and sit carefully, leaning, resting my head on the living tree.

Everything around lulls me into a calm, the green reminding me of my nightmare that ... honestly feels more like a premonition. It should horrify me. But the strange sense of familiarity only makes me breathe in deeper. I close my eyes and listen to the enveloping silence, the knowledge that I am in complete solitude.

I whisper the word softly, like a mantra. Vampire. Vampire. It tastes like copper; it tastes like fear. It's addictive. The confirmation, the sense of the forbidden. It's total euphoria every time I even think about it. Every time I think of Edward ...

Wait ... so if he is _really_ a vampire then ... then maybe he was being literal when he said he can't read me. Like, what if he can't read my _mind_? Him reading minds would explain how he knows what people feel about him. I touch the side of my head, remembering the buzz that would flood my head when he looks at me. Maybe it isn't a buzz.

Maybe it's him trying to get inside. What's keeping him out?

"What is wrong with me...?" I ask no one, opening my eyes. There is a faint flash in the distance, a humanoid body vanishing from my sight in a blink. Oh God, I'm not alone out here... I stand and rush back home, not wanting to tease the thought of being watched anymore.

I sleep dreamless, exhaustion making sleep start and end within apparent seconds of each other. As I get ready for another day, I notice the sunlight is much brighter than even than yesterday. I peak out, gasping at the sight of blue sky and clouds so sparse and puffy there is no way they can hold water. I finish dressing with a bounce to my step, finally breaking out some shorts and a regular t-shirt to bask in the rays.

I scare Charlie when I slide down the stair rail. Though I don't think it helped that he is my cushion instead of the floor.

"Um, ow?"

"Sorry, Dad!" I rush to my feet, backing away to straighten my bag. "I'm just ... so thrilled right now."

"A little sunlight and my daughter leave the house looking like Lara Croft. All you need is a braid."

"Good idea!" I pull a hair tie from my pocket and go to business. Charlie smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. For a moment, I can see the man Renee rushed into marriage with almost twenty years ago. His wild, brown curls, the softer edge to his square face. Even when my vision comes back to his grays and wrinkles, the youth is still there.

I eat breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the sunlight that stream in the back window and the crumbs gather in Charlie's slowly growing beard.

After a lot of grunting and cursing at the sky, I finally get The Thing's windows rolled down about half-way. I don't go any further. If the rain sneaks up on me, I don't want the interior to flood. I'm one of the first arrivals at school. In my excitement to be in the sun, I didn't think to look at the clock. Well, at least I'll get some alone time. I lay on one of the outdoor benches, humming to myself as I watch the clouds float by.

"Bella!" Jessica's unmistakable voice cuts through the bird calls. I turn to see that the school's population has grown since I arrived, with a mini dress code of shorts and light color shirts the majority seem to follow. And Jess is no different, rushing to me in a lavender sundress.

"Hey," I wave, unable to be half-hearted on a morning like this. She sits on the tabletop, looking down at me with a laugh. "Mock all you want, I know I'm pale."

"It's not that, Bella. Your hair has red in it. It's pretty!"

"Oh, thanks," I tuck a stray lock behind my ear. "It's mostly in the sun. My hair keeps getting darker up here with all the clouds."

"I didn't know hair could do that. I guess you're happy with the turn of the weather."

"It's my kind of day." We both laugh and I look back at the sparse puffs of white in the sky.

"You finish that _Macbeth _essay yet?"

"Finished it yesterday. You can come over if you like. I'll give you some pointers."

"Mine's nearly there, I just hope Thursday takes its time getting here."

"Uh, Jess ... it's due Wednesday."

"What? Oh, shit!" She pulls her laptop out of her bag, her eyes dancing across the screen in a panic. "Okay, I'm good. Only four pages to go, I got this. I'll finish it tomorrow."

"Why not tonight?"

"Well, I wanted to go to Port Angeles to go dress shopping after school. The dance is this Saturday."

"Aah, I get that. Hey, can I come?"

"You want to dress shop?" She squints, looking me over suspiciously. "Bella, you're wearing a Misfits shirt and cargo shorts."

"I didn't mean for me," I stick my tongue out. "I'm not the best at fashion, but I could be your test subject. Letcha know which is too gaudy, which is too pink, which one makes your boobs look good."

"The ultimate goal!"

"Exactly, Jess. Who better to judge boobs than the girl who has none?" I playfully look down my shirt, and she laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. After more talking, we're joined by Angela and Eric, who acts rather relaxed for a short guy with Tyler attached to his back. It's right before the bell rings for homeroom, I notice we're missing a few people.

"Hey, don't even look," Angela whispers, waiting behind a bit. "The Cullen kids never come on bright days. The doctor takes them hiking. They'll be back once the clouds return. Kinda weird, isn't it?" She gives a slight nod before rushing back to Eric's side.

"So much for keeping it secret..." I mumble, wondering how no one else in town has caught on yet. I mean _really_, just vanishing when the sun is fully out? That screams vampire! God, those idiots need to be sat down and reminded about the existence of hoodies.

The rest of the day passes slowly. The classes seem to drone endlessly, and in Gym I'm pulverized by a shuttlecock somehow. The bruises almost make me regret wearing short sleeves. I text Charlie, wanting his OK before taking off with Jessica for the evening. His reply is fairly predictable. Three poop emojis, a thumbs up, and a smiley face.

I am going to beat whoever introduced him to emojis.

I slide into the back of Jessica's car without thinking, laying across the back seat like I own it. She laughs, rolling down my window so I can stick my feet out.

"How is it I get stuck with the tomboy as a dress judge?"

"Just lucky, I guess. Oh, hey Angela!" Angela rolls her eyes at me and hops in the passenger seat, turning around to take my picture. I flip the camera off, earning a couple giggles. "Alright, it's officially a threesome."

"_Bellaaaa_!" Angela doubles over, wiping tears from her eyes.

The humor is the only way I can cover the anxiety that's been building in my stomach all day. It's so relieving to get out of Forks. Now I can stop looking around for the shape in my dreams or Edward creeping around every corner. In Port Angeles, I can be undistracted and be as good a dress judge as I can manage.

And if I have time to check out some new clothes or books for myself, I'll take it. My excitement increases with every foot we advance beyond the town limits.


	9. The Hand of Fate

Jessica drives faster than Charlie could even dream of, getting us to Port Angeles by four. My first "Girl's Night Out" is going about how I expected it. Head banging to Jessica's CD collection, chatting about college and the future. I put in my two cents about Angela applying for a librarian job — which would be perfect for her — and got a bit of a shock when Jessica said she'd gotten a job at Newton's Outlet.

"You really want to be stuck with Mike every day after school?" I ask, sitting up.

"Well, no ... not really, no. But our dads are good friends, and it pays pretty well. Like, ten bucks an hour. Better than McDonald's or something."

"Yeah, true. Oh hey, there's the sign!"

"**Welcome to Port Angeles!**", a beautiful little tourist trap, more polished than Forks, with the Small-Town vibe that most places would kill for. I look around the unfamiliar landscape, the cheerful people, the old buildings mixed in with fresh signs and structures. It doesn't take long for Jessica to find the department store — apparently, she knows the town well.

The dress selection isn't large, but that doesn't matter to Master Shopper Jessica, who manages to fill an entire rack with dresses for her and Angela to try on. Judging by the length of a few of them, practically at the floor, I think she's more focused on Angela than herself. I settle on a small stool beside the three-fold mirror, my feet free-hanging just inches over the tile.

Jessica wastes no time posing for me in the various dresses she finds, giggling and smiling the entire time. All she needs is a tiara and she'll look like the princess she obviously feels like. But instead of finding that, I find a long pink dress with crystals along the ... I think it's called a bodice. I run it to her, biting my lip when I hold it out for her to examine. Jessica's jaw drops.

"Oh my God, Bella it's perfect!" She grabs it and twirls. "Oh, Tyler is gonna be so shocked."

"Tyler?" I blink, looking at her in surprise.

"Uh yeah. After Mike rejected me, I decided to woman up and ask Tyler to go. Only as a friend, though. We'll do the Cupid Shuffle, drink some punch, it'll be fun!" I'm not sure I believe her, but just the idea of going to the dance with someone, rather than alone, seems to thrill her. "I just wish you'd be there, Bella. You may like it."

"Yeah, no. People with two left feet don't dance."

"Speaking of feet, I found the shoes!" Angela's voice calls from a few aisles away. Jessica grabs me by the wrist, and we run over to all the shiny flats and heels that make my ankles hurt just by looking at them. The girls gravitate to their own preferences, and while I'm glad Angela found the _perfect_ pair of white ballet flats, I'll never understand why Jessica in all her Hobbit existence got six-inch stilettos.

Never.

It doesn't take half as long as I expected for them to have their dresses and accessories picked, sized, and paid for. I check my phone for the time — snorting at a text from Charlie that comprises a cat video and him asking if I'd remembered my pepper spray.

Actually, that's a good question ... I pat my pockets down, earning a snicker from the girls. Erm ... well, what Charlie doesn't know won't hurt him. Right?

"Hey, look over there," my head jerks up, my eyes wide. I look around, realizing that we had left the store behind and were halfway down the boardwalk. This is ... not my best moment, admittedly. I follow Jessica's excited point, her arm right in front of my eyes. "My uncle owns that bookstore."

"You have an uncle?" I ask stupidly.

"Yeah, though my parents don't really claim him. You'll see why. C'mon!" She runs faster than one would expect someone as small as her to go, especially with her arms loaded down with bags. Angela bounds to keep up, clutching her bag to her chest. By the time I catch up with the pair, I'm panting, my tongue hanging out like a dog's.

The bookstore is not what I expected. The windows are full of crystals, crudely made God's Eyes, various ornaments with fairies and other figures crafted from metal, and the few books on display mention Wicca and spell casting. But they are just a puddle compared to the vast ocean of tomes that stretch out along the walls. There are two figures inside, one with black hair down to their waist and a cane, and one behind a counter or desk. I hear the soft chime of Jessica opening the door and rush to her side.

"Uncle Row!"

"Jessie! Oh God, it's been far too long, lass." The man from behind the counter vaults over and practically tackles Jessica, lifting her into the air. "Oh, you've shrunk."

"Rude! Row, these are my friends. Put me down, I'll introduce them." He laughs, setting her on her feet. I peak from behind Angela, wanting to get a good look at this new person. His tan, his hair wild with the same chestnut waves Jessica boasts. His dark eyes travel over Angela as Jessica introduces her, bags and wrinkles showing his age. He locks on me before she has the chance to pull me forward.

"Ah ... Jessie, you didn't tell me you had a Gifted friend."

"I do?" Jessica looks at me and Angela, her eyes wide. "I didn't know that..." He clicks his tongue and runs back to his counter, whispering something to the other man before disappearing amongst the tall, cluttered bookshelves and display tables.

"What does he mean?" Angela whispers to Jessica, sitting at one of the many armchairs that are scattered about.

"Well ... my uncle is a little ... he believes in all kinds of strange things. Fairies, wisps, vampires, witches. In fact, he _is_ one. A witch, I mean. It's why my mom doesn't talk to him." She sighs, setting her bags down and leaning against the wall. "He told me when I was little that some people have Gifts — with a capital 'G' — that make them predispositioned to supernatural occurrences."

"And one of us is capital-g Gifted?" Angela laughs quietly, shaking her head. "He sounds a little crazy to me, Jess."

"He's _not _crazy," Jessica snaps, curling upon herself. I bite my lip, knowing I can confirm at least one of his beliefs. "He's different, there's nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with being different..."

"Jess..." I start, but I'm interrupted by a sharp thunk beside us. Her uncle has piled three books and a small box at the end table, his voice low. Talking to himself, he pulls a necklace from the box and holds it up. It radiates a brilliant multi-color light, smooth and round, tucked away in a copper bed.

"Rainbow Quartz can remove energy blocks, and allow Gifts to blossom." He looks at me, his smile wide with childish wonder. "And girly, you've got Gifts aplenty." He takes my hand in his, surprising me with just how dry and rough they are, laying the crystal in my palm and closing my fingers around it.

I shake my head. "I'm not ... you've got the wrong girl." I try to give it back, but he tucks his hands in his pockets and tilts his head.

"Nope, I got the right one. A girl who evades all mental attacks is just who I was expecting." He picks up the books and pats them. "Books on telepathic powers, some basic crafting, what every budding witch needs."

"Sir, I'm not a witch."

"Uncle Row, are you sure about this...? Her dad may not approve." Jessica's worried face shows pain far beyond just the pagan aspects of all this. He just shakes his head and tenderly rubs Jessica's cheek.

"Jessie, please, learn to trust me. And trust Miss Swan here," his eyes gleam with mischief as he addresses me with a name I've yet to even mention. I nearly drop the necklace in my shock, but to further my surprise it isn't in my hand anymore ... I can feel its weight on my neck ... I didn't put it on. His hands were nowhere near me. What in the world...?

"Bella...? Bella, you look sick." Angela stands, putting her hands on my shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"I-I don't..." There's movement in the distance, the man at the counter. He approaches slowly, limping, with a white cane extended in front of him. There is a light tap from the cane. He is feeling around in front of him, and I can hear a soft clicking coming from his mouth.

And then the familiar ice cold hits me.

"N-no..." I shake my head, backing away from the vampire, my hands in front of me protectively. "Get away from me!"

"Bella, what the hell?" Jessica snaps at me, Angela covers her mouth in horror.

"Jess, I think something's wrong..."

I-I have to go ... I have to...

I run from the bookstore. From the girls yelling after me. From the uncle who knows too much. From the vampire ... God, how many of them have I missed in my life? I rush past glass-fronted shops and vacant lots, losing the sound of their voices before too long. I wrap my arms around myself, noticing the lack of phone in my pocket, the quartz around my neck, and the possibility that I'm going to prison for running away and theft.

Fuck, what have I _done_?

It doesn't take long for me to realize I don't know where I am. There's up to no foot traffic, zero vehicles, and all around are rusty, dominant warehouses watching my every move. Lost. Way, way beyond lost. I freeze in place, searching for a landmark or sign to at least give me a hint.

Three men round a nearby corner, dressed in grimy jackets and ball caps, passing around a brown-bag covered bottle. As the distance closes between us, I realize in disgust that they aren't much older than I, joking among themselves and laughing while play-punching each other's arms. I side-stepped as close to the buildings as I can, giving them room so a collision won't occur.

"Hey, pretty thing!" one of them calls as they pass, his words slurring together. God, he means me... I'm the only person here. I turn away and ignore him, focusing on the trash can beside me. I hear it, the third pauses for a moment. One moves toward me, his stained t-shirt emitting the stench of sweat and booze.

I turn away and half-run down the street, away from the warehouses and from their jeering. The walk turns to gravel, and I skid forward. I catch myself, but to my shock, it's a chain-link fence — padlocked. I turn to my left and right, looking for new ways to go. Buildings. Nothing but somber, abandoned buildings. I curse myself for leaving the shop, leaving the girls, leaving my damn _bag_. The sun slowly vanishes behind a cloud, and a disgustingly familiar voice calls from behind me.

"There you are!" His booming voice shatters the silence, the shards surrounding, practically glistening on the rock. In the gathering darkness, he seems much larger. Dangerous. He looks behind him and laughs. "Took you long enough."

"Yeah," a voice yells. I press myself against the fence. There's no exit, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. God ... they herded me. "Just took a _liiittle_ detour. Tucked your brother in the truck."

"Ah, that lightweight can hear about it come morning." The other stands beside him, only feet away from me. I ... I can't just stay here.

"Get away from me!" I bellow, my voice loud but unsure. They hear it quiver, they see I'm unarmed. I'm helpless.

"Don't be like that, sugar," he breathes, licking his lip. "We just want a little taste."

He advances, reaching for my arm. I scream, pulling away and kicking at his groin. It lands, causing him to double over and cry out in pain. His friends stop catcalling. And he just ... glares at me.

"Feisty, aren't you? I like a challenge." His friend pushes him aside, stomping forward. I curl back, kicking at him, hoping to hit his knee, or maybe his balls like the first one. "Come on, you know you can't win."

"N-no, I don't..." I gasp, an intense buzzing filling my skull. It races down my spine, tears through my arms. A hand grips my shirt, pulling me forward. I hear the cloth rip. "No!" I feel something force through my body, an electric shimmer blasts before my eyes, sending both men flying backward.

I'm suddenly blinded by what I can only assume are headlights. The car stops barely a foot away; the driver exiting and slamming the door so hard the entire vehicle shakes.

"Are you okay?" Edward runs to me, his hands gently taking my shoulders, looking me over. After a second, he takes off his jacket and drapes it over me, zipping me inside. He then looks over his shoulder, a growl coming from his throat. He lowers me to the ground and strides toward them.

"What are you doing...?"

"Taking care of business. _Don't _look, Bella." I squeeze my eyes shut, taking off my glasses to avoid even accidentally seeing anything. But that doesn't stop me from hearing _everything_.  
The men's screaming, the unholy roar that must be Edward's... the way their bones sound when he shatters them ... one by one ... the way their screams garble and gasp, like their mouths have filled with water. Or with ... I cover my nose, trying not to gag from the smell.

"_Bella_..." I shiver, shaking my head. I can't look. I feel his hands guide me up, sickeningly warm to the touch. We saunter to his car, silent as the grave. I don't open my eyes until I know we're driving away from ... the _scene_.

I look over at him. His eyes are on fire, fixed on the road. His skin is a cool pink, his lips deep red. He didn't just kill them. He _ate_ them. Oh God...

"How ... are you feeling, Bella?" He asks after the temporary eternity.

"Dirty. And ... cold. And _sick_." I slide my glasses on my face, finally able to read his expression. His face is a stark contrast to the flames in his eyes. He's pained, horrified. "How did you find me?"

"Jessica called me, said you ran away. She didn't know I was up here already, but the coincidence turns out to be a good one." He chuckles, but there's no humor in it. "I just wish I'd pinpointed you sooner, could've prevented the whole _fucking _thing."

"It's not your fault ..."

"And it's not yours either." He is quick to tell me, turning to the well-lit streets. Things are looking familiar. I guess he's taking me back to Jessica and her uncle. That's good, I can get my bag and return the necklace. "What size shirt do you wear? I'll buy you a replacement for that one ... if you want."

"O-oh ... it's size large, I think."

"No wonder it fits you like a tunic..." He pulls over, putting the car in park. "... they're waiting for you inside, I'll honk so they come out." True to his word, he honks twice. It takes maybe a minute for the girls to appear at the passenger window, sobbing and asking me what happened.

I slide out of the car, my arms wrapped tightly around me. I feel Jessica's arms envelop me, her cheek presses against mine. Her anger has completely vanished, she's just holding me. I lay my forehead on her shoulder and sigh.

"I'm sorry, Jess ... I don't know what came over me..." I lean back, taking the necklace off. "Here, this is your uncle's."

"N-no, it's yours. Along with this," she holds up my backpack and a bag from the bookstore. "Gifts, for coming with Angela and me. And uh ... for bearing the weirdness of my uncle Rowan."

"I uh ... thank you." I put the necklace back on, dumbfounded. "And again, I'm so, _so_ sorry, Jess."

"Hey, I'm just glad you're okay. But uh ... ehe, I'm sorry too. Uncle Row got us pizza while you were gone." She backs away a bit, rubbing her arm. "There's some leftover, if you want it. Pepperoni."

"Uh ... heh, I'm vegetarian. I can't eat meat. But that's okay, I'll get something at home."

"Or," I turn around, watching as Edward leans over to speak out of the passenger window, "third option — I take you somewhere to eat, and then home. The girls can head-on, you get something fresh, and I get to avoid Alice for a while longer. Everybody wins."

"You don't have to get me food, I promise I'm fine." He raises one brow and his eyes flick to my midsection. As if on cue, it rumbles loudly.

"Yeah, just humor me, Bella."

"Edward's right, go with him." Jessica smiles, hugging me one more time. "I'll text you tomorrow. Oh, and uh ... check your phone, it kept vibrating and I don't know the passcode." She waves as she skips off, taking Angela by the hand and leading her inside. I slide back into Edward's car and pull my phone from my backpack.

Five missed calls. All from Charlie. _Shit_. I hit redial and pray he isn't angry.

"Bella! Oh my God, what happened? You never go silent on me, you never ignore my calls. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm okay. I uh ... had an incident, but everything's alright now. I promise I'll explain when I get home."

"... alright. Okay. I trust you, honey. You still with the girls?"

"Well, no. I'm actually with Edward. Cullen. Like I said, I'll explain at home. It'll be less awkward that way." He groans over the speaker, I can almost see him rubbing his temple in frustration. "Sorry, Dad..."

"Just don't get into any more trouble. I'll be waiting up on you. Love you, Bells."

"I love you too. See you later."

He takes ten minutes to find a restaurant. La Bella Italia, not exactly what I was expecting. Before I can ask why he picked here, he's at the door, holding it open with his crooked smile. I sigh and rush to catch up. He stays right at my side as we approach the unoccupied host stand. I look around a bit.

It's not crowded, and pretty much everyone is sticking to the open bar. The host arrives after a couple minutes, a bubbly young man whose neutral server look changes in a second to one of awe. We're welcomed a little more warmly than necessary, all his attention on the tall, unnaturally handsome man beside me. I have to swallow my snicker, knowing the host may be embarrassed by it.

"Table for two, please." His voice is alluring and soft. And his hands make careful fists by his hips. The host's eyes flicker to me for a split moment, then back to Edward. I suppose we look like an odd couple. He nods and leads us to a table big enough for four, in the only part of the dining floor that has any form of population.

I go to sit, but Edward's hand in mine stops me.

"Is there anywhere more ... private?" He leans toward the man's ear, slipping a small wad of cash into the host's hand.

"Uh ... yeah, sure." The host refuses the cash, leading us around a partition to an empty row of booths. Edward leads me to the booth, letting me slide in first.

"_Perfect_. Thank you." Edward gives the host a soft, sweet smile, and the host raises his hand to his chest. I don't think he realizes his impact on people. It's terrifying.

"Um" - he shakes his head, blinking - "your server will be right out." The host rushes away, failing at looking cool.

"You, sir, are evil." I say quietly, shaking my head at Edward.

"It took you this long to accept that?"

"No, the effect you had on that poor dude." He snorts, tilting his head at me. "You can't be unaware of that."

"I'm aware of it, _trust me_." His hands raise in annoyance. "I absolutely hate it."

"You don't seem to do much to stop yourself."

"Not much I can do, unfortunately..." He trails off, looking up.

Our server has arrived, her face expectant. The host _definitely _gushed behind the scenes, and this woman appears far from disappointed. She tucks a strand of short black hair behind one ear and smiles. Wait, that's no smile. Good Lord, she's going to flirt. This'll be fun.

"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?" As expected, she is focusing only on him. I smirk, giving him a wink. Edward, meanwhile, is staring at his hands like his life depends on it. Then his ruby eyes flash to me, and he mirrors my sarcastic expression.

"I'll have whatever _she _is having," he gives me a fake flirty smile. You prick...

"Oh, I think I'll stick with water for now." I lean forward, laying my hand on his. His body visibly relaxes, like this little ploy is more for his comfort than just being a dumbass. Our fingers lace together, his skin much warmer than I expected. My smirk becomes a genuine smile.

"I'll be right back with that," she looks over and me, her face morphing into confusion, and she trots away. He traces his finger over my palm. Then he coughs.

"You gonna let my hand go?"

"Yep." I tuck my hand into the hoodie pocket, shivering. "We need to get you some hand warmers, Edward."

"Psh, I wish those worked." His eyes stay fixated on my face. "...how are you feeling?"

"... better. Cold, for obvious reasons, and in a bit of ... I guess shock, but like ... maybe it hasn't set in yet, or ... I dun — I dunno, man."

"At least you're talking. That's always a good sign." He bites his lip for a second, teeth skillfully hidden from view. "But, all the same, I'll feel better once you get some food in you."

Right on cue, the waitress appears with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. She stands with her back to me as she sets them on the table. Talk about rude.

"Are you ready to order?"

"_Bella_?" he asks, adding an unneeded emphasis on my name. She turns unwillingly toward me.

If there's one thing I know about most Italian restaurants, the veggie-friendly meals are limited. I clear my throat. "Fettuccine Alfredo, please. No chicken, extra broccoli."

"And you?" She turns back to him with a smile.

"Nothing for me, please. I'm just here for her."

"Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile is still in place, but he doesn't look at her, and she leaves dissatisfied.

I sip my water, almost gulping it down after thirst really kicks in. He holds his glass to his lips, watching as half my glass vanishes in that first drink. I shiver from the cold of the water and set the glass down.

"Still cold?"

"It's from the water, don't worry. I'll just do _this_," I pull my arms inside his massive hoodie, feeling like a child. Probably looking like one. Edward shakes his head, hiding his cheeks in his hand.

"I'm losing that jacket, aren't I?"

"Yes, yes you are. And dude, how tall are you? This thing is huge."

"Uh ... like 5'8? Pretty average for all genders involved." Edward snorts and drinks more water. "You, my darling Bella, are just _tiny._"

"I prefer Fun-Sized."

He raises a brow. "Oh, do you?"

"Not like that, you perv!" He takes a piece of bread and casually munches on it. I take one for myself, taking a chunk out. "I gotta ask... why somewhere so fancy? I figured we'd run through a Burger King or something."

"I had thought about that, but I figured you deserved a few minutes of stillness after all that _mess_." Edward squints at the bread stick. "Garlic bread, oh the irony." My eyes trail up to his, the red of his irises more luminous than I've ever seen.

"You know, contacts would be good if you want to keep your secret better. They were the first thing I noticed about you."

"Ah ... heh, I'm not used to people paying attention to them. No one looks you in the eye when you're the weird guy in the corner. The others have their way of hiding it, but contacts ... don't work. For long, anyway." He raises a finger to his lips.

The waitress strides around the partition with my food. Her struggle to place my plate makes me realize we've been leaning toward each other without noticing. I straighten up, giving her room. I pull the steaming dish toward me, my mouth practically gushing drool.

"Did you change your mind?" she asks Edward, bobbing on her toes.

"No, thank you, but some more water would be nice." He gestures with a long white hand to the empty cup in front of me.

"Of course, sir." She takes my glass and rushes away.

"What was the give-away for you? The ... van incident?"

"Pretty much, yes. But it seemed so illogical I flat-out refused to believe it. It wasn't until I got to La Push that I realized I wasn't the only one who ... well, knew."

"Speaking of ... when you tell this to Charlie — sorry, I couldn't help but overhear — please omit me ... _finishing off_ those men. No one at home realizes I still have a bit of a taste for human blood, and if Alice does, she isn't saying. So ..."

"Hey, this is the second time you've saved my ass. The least I owe you is some silence."

"I appreciate that, _ma chérie._"

The waitress returns with my water, placing it and leaving without a word. Again, I down most of the glass. Edward chuckles, barely to the half-point of his own first glass.

"So, anything on your mind?" He leans over and taps the glass plate. I oblige the silent order with glee.

"Well," I swallow my bite, not really sure where to go with this. "Why are you in Port Angeles?"

He looks down, folding his hands together slowly on the table. "Carlisle needed some errands ran, a stop at an old friend's house to pick up some books. They're in the trunk. I'd just loaded them when Jessica called me."

"Good timing, I guess... Okay, next inquiry."

"Fun times."

"Can you actually read minds? You never admitted to it, but you've hinted."

"Yes, I can. In fact, I can read every mind in this room except one." He points right at me.

" ... what, mine? You can't read mine?"

"Not even a little bit. And believe me, it is frustrating. I was going to give you a read, decide how to interact with you. But it was like ... _static_. Like there was a wall in your brain. An incorrect frequency." I nod, eating methodically so I can listen and guide the fork at the same time. He leans over and pushes the napkin to my empty hand. "You've got sauce on your nose."

I wipe it off, thinking about my next round of questions.

"So how does it work? Can you all read minds?"

"No, that's just me. The others have their own abilities, but you'll see those later on. Alice's request. If I don't obey it, she'll know, and she'll steal something of mine."

"Wow, she really is like your niece."

"Tell me about it..."

"So ... why can't you read my mind? Am I some sort of freak or?"

"Pardon. Do you think you're the freak here? You are talking to a mind-reading vampire, you know. That isn't exactly _normal_, Bella."

"Okay, that is true, but like ... a nerdy mind-reading vampire. A super non-scary vampire that always cheats off my math homework."

"Trig is torture and you know it!" Edward pouts for a second, then his face becomes grave. "Non-scary vampire ... that's quite the oxymoron, Bella."

"You think I don't know that? But really, it's not like you're on the same level as most humans I know. I mean, you stopped me from being raped. And probably prevented anyone else from being attacked. That's not scary, that's heroic."

"You think too kindly of me, Bella..."

I stretch my hand across the table again — ignoring him when he pulls back slightly — to touch his fingers gently. I take his hand and gently squeeze it, his cool, rocky skin feeling soft. His hand shakes, and I take that as the time to pull away. Then he does something unexpected.

"When I realized you were in Port Angeles, I kept tabs on you," he admits lowly, speaking in a rush. "I had the worst feeling when you ran out of that bookstore. The same one I'd had moments before Tyler's van came at you. I lost you in the crowd, but after hearing those men ... I almost crashed through the building to get there." He pauses, staring at me. "I ... I shouldn't have followed you, I know ..."

"That is ... creepy as hell, but I've no complaints... yet. Be honest, do you ever think you're just delaying my end? I figured my time was up in that parking lot."

"Bella, your time was up when you sat next to me in that biology lab."

The abrupt memory of his violent black glare that first day flashes in my mind... but the overwhelming sense of safety I now feel in his presence stifles it. By the time he looks up to read my eyes, all fear is gone

"You remember?" he asks, his face grave.

"_Vividly_."

"And yet here you sit. As if we were two buddies meeting up."

"Yes, here I sit. Because of you." I point at him with my fork. "I'm unafraid, because you've given me no reason to be. As far as I am concerned, you're one of the best friends I have."

He presses his lips together, staring at me through narrowed eyes, deciding again. His eyes flash down to my nearly full plate and then back to me.

"You eat, I'll talk," he bargains.

I quickly scoop up some noodles and pop them in my mouth.

"I had difficulty keeping track of you. I normally don't even have to _see_ someone to know where they are, I can just follow their mind, judge the distance from that. But you ... nothing. Not a damn thing —

"But Jessica was thinking at the top of her head. I searched her mind for any sign of you, but all it did was confirm her prior story of you running away. When I realized I had lost visual on you, I panicked." He clenches his fists together, his eyes wide as he recounts everything. "Anxiety made it hard to breathe, I ran around the alleyways and backstreets thinking the worst had happened. It was when I got back to my car that I heard one of the men. Describing you to the T in his mind as he ..." I gulp as a growl escapes the back of his throat.

"I drove toward that pervert, still... listening, getting angrier by the second. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then — ," He stops, his teeth grinding together. "Then he crossed the line. Your face was in his mind... crying and screaming... so I returned the favor." He suddenly leans forward, resting his head in his hands, eyes covered. Edward stops there.

I sit quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. My hands lay folded in my lap, and I lean weakly against the back of the seat. I should have realized ... God, they were going to kill me. I look across the table, Edward never having moved. He starts to resemble the marble his skin is made of.

Finally, he looks up, his eyes seeking mine, full of his own questions.

"Whatever you did that pushed them back ... that's what gave me the time to get there." He looks at my plate — now empty. "You, uh ... you ready to go home?"

"Yeah, I am ..." I wrap my arms around myself, grateful for how large and warm his jacket is. Like being enveloped in a hug.

Edward waves the waitress over.

"How are we doing?" she asks him.

"We're ready for the check, thank you." His voice is quiet, rougher, still reflecting the strain of our conversation. She hesitates, looking at me to try to gauge the mood she's walked into. I just smile.

"S-sure," she stutters. "Here you go." She pulls a small leather folder from the front pocket of her black apron and hands it to him.

He has a bill ready, slipping it in her folder within a second.

"Keep the change." He takes my hand as we stand, pulling me tightly to his side. The romantic charade is enough for the waitress to stand back and fully acknowledge my existence. She smiles at me.

"Have a nice evening, lovebirds." He doesn't look her way, but thanks her.

He keeps me close beside him, his stiff arm around my waist. It's cold, a bit uncomfortable, but I don't tell him. His protective body language is more than welcome right now. I look up at him, trying to make sense of the mask he slipped on for the host and waitress. His warm, casual smile drops to a relaxed, neutral face once we enter the night. I don't even notice when we get to his car.

Edward opens the passenger door, holding it for me as I step in. By the time I've gotten buckled and set, he's already in the driver's seat, turning the engine. I snuggle into his hoodie, pulling my knees to my chest.

"Ready when you are."

Edward pulls out through the traffic without a glance, flipping around to head toward the freeway. He chuckles, one hand reaching out to gently boop me on the nose.

"My turn, Bella."


	10. A Short Drive Down a Long Road

"Can I ask one more?" Edward accelerates much too quickly down the quiet street. His eyes are forward, his body rigid, but I get the feeling his attention is _far_ from the road. With an exaggerated sigh and a roll of his eyes, he nods.

"One."

"How does it work—the mind-reading thing? Like, how does it feel when it works?" I bounce a bit in my seat, hoping he will give me a straight answer. He has no reason not to, all things considered. Hearing all this from the source is ... ah, it's thrilling. I wish I had my notebook with me right now.

"That's more than one," he says with a snort. I intertwine my fingers and stare at him, waiting. "You really want to know? Heh, alright, but it's boring, fair warning." He pauses thoughtfully, clicking his tongue.

"It's like being stuck in a small room, and everyone is talking full volume. But if I pay more attention to one particular person or group, they're all I take in. It's easier to appear _normal_," — he frowns as he spits the word out — "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."

"And my thoughts?"

"You're on a totally different frequency than everyone else."

"That would explain the static I feel."

"You get it too?" He laughs, rubbing his eye. "Then I'm sticking with it. I'm an FM Brain and you're an AM Brain. Or would you prefer to be a Satellite and me be Bunny Ears?"

"Hell yeah, Satellite Brain."

"Makes me Bunny Boy Ed. And that brings us back to _you_. No more stalling. _Spill_. Tell me the entire process of going from 'Wow, this dude is weird' to 'he's a vampire'."

"Well, the van was a huge tell," he laughs and nods his head, accepting that as truth. My eye happens to catch the speedometer and I freeze. "Whoa!"

"What? What's wrong?" He jumps, looking at me with gigantic eyes. But he doesn't slow.

"You're going over a hundred, slow down!" I shout. I look out the window in panic, but it's too dark to see much. The road is only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the headlights, and the forest along both sides of the road melts into a solid black wall.

"Just relax, Bella. We aren't going to crash, I promise. Besides, I pick up on everything before any human could, including speed traps in the distance." He slows down just in time to get past a cop hidden in the bushes, and speeds up once at a safe distance. "Case, and point."

"Alright, alright. You got me there. But if we turn into a car-pretzel, you're the only one of us who has the ability to walk away."

"... dammit, you've got a point." He sighs, and I watch with relief as the needle gradually drifts to eighty. Still way too fast for this road, but enough for me to lay back into my seat and relax. "Happy?"

"Getting there."

"I _hate _driving slow," he pouts.

"This is slow?"

"Can we move on to the topic at hand, please?" He snaps, eyes threatening to roll from his skull. For all his annoyance, his eyes are gentle, wanting. "I promise not to laugh at the thought process."

"I don't know how to start," I admit, leaning back.

"Why don't you start at the beginning... you said my eyes were the first clue."

"Yes. But I really didn't consider them as a factor for a bit."

"So, what was the ultimate hint?"

"Well, you were." He seems confused. "Let me just ... I have always been a fan of horror and fantasy books, especially the history of paranormal creatures. Originally, I thought you were just a shy guy who liked contact lenses. The van incident and my visit to La Push sealed the deal. My friend, Julie Black, explained some things to me."

"Julie Black..." He looks around his skull, waiting for the answer to jump out at him. From his tone, I know it's not a question, but I answer anyway. Save a bit of time.

"Her dad is one of the Quileute elders." I observe him, his confused expression frozen in place. "We went for a walk and she was telling me a few legends of her people — the wolves and such. And then the Enemy of the Werewolf ..." I take in a deep breath, hesitant.

"Keep going..."

"_Vampires_," I whisper. I can't look at his face now, but his knuckles tighten convulsively on the wheel.

"And you immediately thought of me?" His voice is level. Maybe he's already accepted that I know.

"Yes ... and then she mentioned your family. About how you all _apparently_ haven't changed since her great-grandfather was alive." He stays silent, staring at the road. "Afterward, my dad mentioned how you and Dr. Cull ... Carlisle were here for a few years when he was a kid. Under different names."

"What did you do then?" he asks after a minute.

"I did some research on the Internet, and in my books."

"And did that convince you?" His voice sounds barely interested, but his hands are denting the steering wheel.

"I knew what you were long before then. Right after the accident. I just couldn't bring myself to admit it until ... well."

"What?"

"Ultimately, I decided it doesn't matter what you are."

"_It doesn't matter_?" His tone makes me look up. I have finally broken through his carefully composed mask. His face is incredulous, with plenty of the anger I've been trying to avoid. His eyes are almost glowing, his upper lip curled up in a sneer. I cross my arms, standing my ground.

"No, it doesn't."

A hard, mocking edge enters his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not _human_? I literally ate two men tonight!"

"I still don't care!" I shout back, glaring at him. "Dude, you've saved my life twice now. And you work with my dad. Why would I care that you're a vampire?"

"Oh my god, you're insane." He snaps, using one hand to rake some hair out of his eyes.

"Well, you can't tell me I'm wrong about this."

"_Please_, I wish you were. I mean the 'It doesn't matter!' part," he quotes, mimicking the height of my voice. "Do you know how paranoid I've been lately? 'Does she know? What will she do? Will we have to leave town? What about Chief Swan?' And here you are acting like it's nothing. _Jesus_!"

We sit in silence for a moment, my eyes wide and locked on the road ahead of us.

"So now you know. I'm a vampire." He hisses between his teeth, opening his mouth wider than I've seen before. Like he gave himself permission to fully emote. "Got any _specifics _you wanna know?"

"Uh... I hadn't uh ... how old are you?"

"Twenty." he answers honestly, unlike last time.

"And how long have you been twenty?"

His lips twitch as he stared at the road. "A good while. It's been at least a century since I was born."

"Cool, you're an old fart." I snicker, trying to imagine all the decades he must have lived through. He stares down at me with watchful eyes, much as he had when he thought I would go into shock. I smile wider in encouragement, and he shakes his head.

"Next?"

"Okay, don't laugh, but how can you come out during the daytime?"

"The whole sunlight burning us thing is a myth."

"Sleeping in coffins?"

"I prefer my down mattress, personally. And rarely. It takes a lot to wear us out — I get a solid REM cycle at least once a month." He turns to look at me with a wistful expression. "I've had wonderful dreams lately, though." His ruby eyes take mine, and I completely lose my train of thought. It returns when he looks away. "Are you avoiding the most important question on purpose?"

"What, am I supposed to go all Anne Rice on you?"

"You're not concerned about my diet?" He says with a raise of his brow.

"I already know what it is, what's the point in asking?"

"Woooow, Bella. Priorities, girl, you need to get some."

I laugh, he doesn't. "Julie said one thing about that, though."

"I'm amazed at how much the Quileute people gossip about us."

"She said your family only drinks the blood of animals, _never _humans, and that you're not dangerous to people because of that."

"She seriously said we aren't dangerous?"

"Well, not _supposed_ to be anyway, but that you're forbidden from crossing onto their land just in case...you broke the treaty, didn't you? When you ... with those men?"

"Yes," he whispers. "But even if someone finds out, Billy will let it slide. He and Carlisle are a lot closer than they show, and he would understand my reasoning. Besides, no matter what I eat, I'll always be a danger to others. We all will."

"How so?"

"We try," he explains, "to pass as human. We eat, drink — even though it does _nothing_ for us — we even use makeup to age ourselves up. But we all make mistakes. I'm making one now just being in this car with you."

"_This _is a mistake to you?" I look at the two of us, separated by a console, in the middle of a road. There is no hostility or even a looming danger to be felt.

"A very dangerous one."

We both fall silent then. I watch the headlights twist with the curves of the road. They move so fast it's like I'm in a video game, fast traveling to a new destination. And yet time has almost slowed to a stop, like we're going too fast for time to keep up with us. His words hint at an end, but I can't let that happen. Not yet.

"Why do you go after animals instead of people? Is it just as good, or better?"

"I don't want to be a monster." His voice was very low. "Killing humans just ... even when I went through my, er ... _rebellious_ phase, the knowledge that I ate another person made me feel sick… until I specialized my targets." His eyes slide to the side for a moment.

"And animals work?" I lean a little closer.

He thinks, sucking on his lip. "Compare it to your diet. You can survive, and even be happy on it, but there are plenty who never feel satisfied without meat."

"I'm actually allergic to meat protein."

"Regardless, it keeps us strong enough to resist our thirst. Most of the time." He glances over at me, eyes slowly moving from my face to my neck. "But every so often, the temptation becomes too much to bear."

"I-is now one of those times?"

" ... yes."

"But you've fed, even if I hadn't witnessed it, I would know from your eyes." Edward chuckles.

"I knew you noticed the eye changes, but I didn't realize you made the connection. Well done." He laughs, I laugh. The tension is finally gone from us.

"Safe to assume you all went hunting while I was at La Push." He bobs his head in reply.

"Three days of bears, cougars, and putting leaves in Emmett's dreadlocks. His fault for growing them out." We both roar with laughter, but then I stop.

"Wait, _three days_? I figured you just got back."

"We've been back since Sunday."

I scoff, crossing my arms. "Then why weren't you at school, not-so-young man?"

"Excuse me, _Mom_, but even if it doesn't kill me, being in the sun is a no-no for vampires." He snaps his fingers. "So, ha!"

"What, do you get massive freckles or something?"

"I'll show you on the next sunny day, okay?"

"Well, good! And call me next time you're gonna vanish. It's so annoying and miserable when my friend just poofs without a word." I lean against the door, watching the rear-view mirror and the shimmer of the car. Suddenly, Edward lets out a deep groan. "You okay over there?"

"I ... I think it just hit me. Having someone know what I am, other than Charlie — who I'm not exactly close to. My way of life is so chaotic compared to that of a normal high school senior, or even someone of my physical age." He chuckles sourly, pushing himself against the seat. "You really sure you still want to be friends? I can't really control when I'll have to disappear."

"So long as I get a text from you, I'm golden."

"And you're willing to overlook the fact that I drink blood? And have killed people? And could kill you?" His voice grows more incredulous by the second.

"I told you, it's too late for me to give a damn what you are. You saved my life, you're my friend. Vampire or not, you're stuck with me."

"If I somehow don't kill you, you are _definitely_ going to be the death of me. I can feel it in my blood." He slaps his forehead when I bust out guffawing. He mimics my laugh, pulling on his jacket to bring me to my senses. "Get that outta your system?"

"For now." I lower my knees from my chest, grinning as I watch the animated road. We have to be getting close to home. His speed picks back up to the triple digits while we were talking. Cheeky little bastard. I see him toy with his lip from my peripheral vision, his head tilting toward me for a second.

"What are you thinking?"

"That moving to Forks just went from being the most boring part of my life to the most exciting thing I could ever imagine."

"Pfft! Alright, what were you thinking as I pulled up in that alley? Your face was so intense, and the men were on the ground. What was going on in your weird brain?"

"Well, I had just kicked a man in the crotch—"

"That explains the one screaming 'My balls!' at the top of his lungs."

" — and somehow sent the other one flying without laying a hand on him."

"So, instead of running you fou ... wait, did you just say ... you shoved him back _without _touching him?"

"Yes, I did. And running would have been pointless. I trip over myself at high speeds. Just look at my legs after gym, you'll see what I mean."

"I don't believe it."

"Dude, just look at my legs, they're right there."

"No, the whole ... without-touching-him thing. That's impossible."

"So are vampires, but here you are."

"I ... point taken. You really are something else, Bella."

We slow down, the **Welcome to Forks** sign catching my attention. I look at the clock. Our entire conversation and drive has barely taken thirty minutes.

"Gonna be in school tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I've got a paper to turn in. Plus, Carlisle is cracking down on absences... turns out Alice and Rose cut school a couple weeks ago without there being an actual reason. So, there will be a group of hoods prancing about in the parking lot now and then." He comes to a complete stop. I look out, not wholly surprised to see my house. With the lights on. And Charlie waiting in the living room window. This is going ... to suck ass.

I slide out of the car, walking around the front and to the sidewalk by the house.

"Hey, Bella," he calls out the window.

"Yeah, Edward?"

"Will you promise me one, little thing?"

"Yeah, sure. What is it?"

"Don't go in the woods alone. Please. Shocking as this may seem, vampires aren't the only predators in these parts." I shiver from the sudden bleakness in his voice. It's an easy promise to honor, but my mind goes crazy trying to find creatures in the shadows. What could be more dangerous than a family of vampires?

"Uh, yeah. I can do that. See ya at lunch, then!"

"See you." He winks before speeding off, leaving me wishing I was still in the car. I clutch my belongings tightly and walk to the front door.

At this moment, there are three things I am absolutely positive of. First, Edward is a vampire. Second, there is a part of him—and I don't know just how potent that part might be—that thirsts for my blood. And third, I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with my new life.


	11. Budding Connection

"Bella, that you?"

"Yeah Dad, it's me." I walk to the living room, expecting him to be in Detective Swan mode. Instead, he's got _Golden Girls_ on the TV and has a mug of ... either coffee or cocoa in his hands. "Wooow."

"Don't you dare judge." He points at me. "You're home earlier than I expected, it was sitcom time."

"My apologies then."

"First thing's first. Did you have fun?"

"Uh ... yeah, for the most part. Met Jessica's weird uncle and uh ... ran into a random vampire while I was there."

"Long black hair, white cane?"

"Well, he had a cane. I didn't get a good look at him, when I felt how cold he was I went into a panic mode. M-mostly because of that Jess' uncle said about me."

"What did he say?" Charlie pats the couch beside him, and I vault over the back, plopping beside him. "Impressive."

"Thanks. And ... he said I'm Gifted. Like, capital G. That I have abilities the average person doesn't. It overwhelmed me, so when the vampire showed up I just ... I ran."

"Leaving your bag and phone behind, I assume."

"You assume right." I swallow hard and touch the hoodie zipper. "And while I was lost, I was cornered by two men..." I unzip slightly, showing him where my shirt was torn. "They tried to ... to ..."

"Oh god ... Baby, are you hurt?" Charlie takes my face in his hands, looking for bruises, scratches, or well ... anything amiss. I shake my head, taking his hands in mine and squeezing them.

"Dad, they never had the chance. Edward showed up long before they could hurt me... he scared them off." He lets out a breath, holding me close. He's trembling violently.

"I'm just glad my little girl's safe. If you need to go to therapy or, well, anything else, do not hesitate to tell me, okay?" I nod, leaning against Charlie's shoulder. He smiles softly, wrapping an arm around me and hugging me tight into his side. "So much for Girl's Night, eh?"

"I think I want to do another one. Without the uh ... you know, vampires and perverts." I curl up slightly, cocooning myself into Edward's hoodie. " ... I did something weird, too."

"Oh? Like what?"

"I ... pushed one of the guys. With my mind..." I close my eyes. "At least, that's what I think happened."

"... I suppose one of us had to inherit that."

"Wh-what?" I sit up and stare at him in awe. Then annoyance. "You mean, you knew? Again, Dad?"

"Well no, not this time, no. But my grandmother always said us Swans were predetermined for some sort of greatness and power. I didn't really believe her ... until she made a bowl float ten feet in the air. I just never thought ..." Charlie leans back on the couch, letting out an exhausted sigh. "So, you ran from Jessica's uncle only because you could tell another person in there was a vampire. And soon after you discovered you do have a Gift."

"I also know that Edward can't ... uh."

"What, read your mind?" He chuckles, ruffling my hair. "That's probably a good thing. What with the horror movies you devour and the crazy-ass books in your room, he probably would have feared you. Don't suppose you can teach me that trick?"

"Uh ... if I knew how I blocked him, I'd tell you."

"That's fair. Just uh ... don-don't let all this get to you. I know the vampire thing alone can be pretty _overwhelming_, but after a couple more days, it'll be at the 'yeah, that's a vampire' stage."

"You sure you don't mean weeks or years there, Dad?"

"Nope, not sure at all, really."

We share a chuckle and sit together to finish the show. I snuggle up against Charlie's side, stealing his blanket when the credits roll on the TV. And through the next series of episodes. I start to drift off, but something keeps my eyes from staying shut ... I'm about to give in when I feel Charlie stand up and guide me to my feet.

"Bedtime, Bells. I'll have some waffles for you in the morning."

"Hm-hm ... love you, Dad." I shuffle to the stairs, absently picking my bags up along the way.

"I love you too, honey."

Slowly but surely, in time I find myself face-down in my comforter, drained of energy and just lying in my dirty, torn clothes and my stolen hoodie. My body slowly relaxes while my brain replays the day. I curl up, forcing myself to not linger on those guys ... and the smell of blood.

It's difficult to argue with the half of my brain that continues to argue that last night was simply a dream. I cling to everything I know I didn't imagine — his voice, his anger, the sights, the smells. I could have dreamed up the assault, the gore, but not him. Not Edward.

I get dressed, noting the dense fog and lack of sun out my window. Perfect, he has no reason to skip school today. I grab my backpack and head to the stairs, the faint scent of waffles caressing my nose. As I tuck my ponytail into a beanie, I notice that Charlie left a note on the front door. I try to read it, but he must have been rushed. Even with my corrective lenses, I can't make out whatever he was trying to say.

But half-way done with my waffles, and without even _knocking_, I find myself in the company of one Edward Cullen, his copper hair disheveled with curls in every known direction. He's not ready for school, which has me worried. I swallow and open my mouth to speak when he holds my dad's note up for me.

"I had a feeling you would've missed this."

"I didn't miss it, I just can't read it." I squint at him. "How did you get in here?"

He sucks on his teeth. "The Chief sent me here for his erm ... _animal deaths_ file. There's another one he needs to record. Gave me his spare keys, figured if you weren't in bed I'd say 'hi'."

"That's kinda creepy, dude. Actually, not kinda, that's just creepy."

" ... I guess I hadn't thought about it." He looks away and chuckles. "But it's good that I came. There's no school this week. They announced it on the news last night. The water pipes burst and flooded the whole first floor during last night's deep freeze."

"Wow. You'd think they would have emailed us about that."

"They did, Bella."

"Ssshhh..."

I reach out, putting my finger on his lips. Edward snorts, swatting my hand away gently. I look at his shirt—a dark green V-neck with long sleeves and glance over at the thermometer Charlie keeps in the windowsill. Just over freezing. I move my finger to his chest and prod.

"You know Edward, it's hard to pass for human with _this_ shirt in _this_," I gesture around us, "weather."

"You make a painfully good point, Bella, but you see I lost my favorite hoodie to a Hobbit last night and haven't gotten it back."

"Smartass. It's on my bed if you want it." He perks up a bit, tilting his head.

"Why, Bella, did you sleep in my jacket? I'm touched."

"Go fuck yourself, pretty boy."

"You think I'm pretty." He says in a sing-song tone, pulling his phone out with a groan. "Would you like to hang with me today? And please say 'yes', Malice is being a pain in my ass right now."

"Malice?"

"Alice."

"Aah. Well, not like I've got much else to do today. Sure, why not?" I take my now empty plate and drop it in the sink.

"Excellent. We'll swing by the station to drop off Charlie's file, pray to God he isn't ogling Carlisle while I'm in there," he rolls his eyes at this, "and head on to that little cafe you seem to like."

"Whoa, whoa, hit the brakes. My dad _ogles_ your brother?"

"Technically Carlisle's just a roommate, but yes. Has for years, why?" I shrug, looking away.

"No reason. Let's get out of here." I grab my phone and wallet out of my backpack and lock the door, Edward already waiting in his running car before I have the chance to show him out. Then I turn right around and grab my little black notebook, smiling at its worn cover. Edward is giving me a smirk by the time I buckle in. "What?"

"I suppose that means we'll be playing Twenty Questions today?"

"Well, no. Now that I'm not questioning my sanity, I figured it'd be wise to pick my hobby back up. Writing descriptions of everything I see. Besides, I really didn't want to pry any more than I have..." I chuckle softly, and he shakes his head.

"You are taking this way too cool, you know. I can't tell what your thought process is, and what comes out is rather scary. I can't think of another person who would willingly be _this_ close to me knowing what I am."

"You know, I always tell you what I'm thinking when you ask. Just saying." I hold my hands up in mock surrender.

"Oh please, you edit." He points an accusatory finger at me.

"Not _that_ much."

"Enough to be noticeable."

"Trust me, you don't want to hear half the things I think," I promise, remembering every cuss word I ever thought at him. I regret those words just moments after saying them, his little 'oooo' reply making me groan. "Not like that, you _pervert_." His laugh fills the car as we slowly drive toward the police station. About half-way there, a convertible drives past us and honks. I squint at it.

"Okay, that is painfully pink."

"Yeah, of all of us, she blends in the _least_ car-wise. That was Rose, by the way. She fixed that thing up herself."

"Impressive. Never really pegged Rosalie for a grease monkey."

"Neither did Carlisle. When he found her ... well, I won't go into those gory details, but he had assumed that she would be like Esme—maternal, sweet, guiding. Turns out she's got a hyper-feminine exterior and the soul of a mechanic." Edward smiles. "We uh ... won't be driving together for a while now. Since I'm sort of breaking every rule set for us."

Before I can start a round of 'what are the rules?' my phone blasts. I feel Edward's cold as he leans over to read the caller ID. It's Jessica.

"What are you going to tell her?" Edward murmurs, righting himself in the seat. "You know she's going to ask about our dinner, it's just common sense."

"The truth, I suppose. It'd help if I knew just _exactly_ what she wanted to know. Something tells me 'we ate, we talked, I fell asleep watching sitcoms' isn't going to fly." Edward closes his eyes for a second, either remembering or searching for Jessica's mind. His eyes open.

"Well, she wants to know if we're dating, if we kissed, and how you feel about me," he clears his throat, looking at me with a slight blush. "Frankly, I'd like to know the answer to that one too."

"Oh, boy..." He comes to a halt, shifting the car into park.

"I'll give you some privacy. Be back in a few, Bella." I nod stiffly, watching as he slowly makes his way up the short flight of stairs. The answer to the first two is 'no'. She won't like it, obviously, but why lie? As for the last one ...

I answer the phone.

"Morning, Bella!" Jessica giggles into the phone. I can imagine her laying on her bed, deep curls wild around her head, no doubt her gown is a soft pink or blue. But enough assuming ... back to business.

"Hey, Jess. Enjoying the week off so far?"

"Oh, God, yes. I, like, just woke up. It was amazing."

"Niiice."

"Okay soooo," I hear her bed bounce from her moving. "Tell me everything!"

"There's really not much to tell. He got me food and took me home."

"And in between?" Another giggle.

"Uh, conversation. We just chatted over pasta and a weird waitress."

"Was it a date? Did you two plan to meet up?"

"Well ... no. He uh ... stopped me from being um ..." I choke, my lips tremble. God, I thought I'd be over this before now...

"Bella...? Are you okay?"

"He ... saved me, Jess. From two guys who ..." I let out a cough, trying to cover the lump building in my throat.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry..." Her voice cracks. "I shouldn't have dug."

"It's okay, really." I let out a breath. "I don't blame you for thinking how you did, it's pretty logical."

"Um ... did he kiss you?"

This time I laugh. "No, Jess, there was no kissing. We aren't a secret couple, he's just a good friend."

"I still ship it."

"Jessica, please."

"C'mon, surely something gives you the same vibe he gives me. Girl, when you aren't looking, he is giving you goo-goo eyes."

"I don't believe you. But there was _one_ thing."

"I knew it!"

"There was a waitress, like I mentioned before. Absolutely _gorgeous_, very obviously trying to flirt with him. Ignoring me, winking, she even shimmied her boobs once. She laid it on _hard_." I shrug even though she can't see me. "He didn't even look at her to pay."

Jessica's gasp could put a soap opera to shame.

"Oh my God, Bella! He must really like you." I snort, shaking my head.

"I think he might, but I'm not sure," it takes all my self-control not to laugh, but no doubt my Valley Girl tone clues Jessica in to how not-serious I am, "he's _soooo _cryptic."

"I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," she sighs. "I mean, it's different from just being at the table with him and his family. Just him is so ... I dunno, but I couldn't do it."

"Uh, why?"

"He's so... _intimidating_. I wouldn't know what to say to him."

"Normal things. He loses his intimidation once you hear actually sit down with him." Not a complete lie, if you can overlook the fact that he's a murderer and possibly immortal. Which ... I sort of have. The jury is out on my sanity.

"It doesn't help that he is unbelievably hot."

"His attractiveness isn't his only asset, you know."

"I know, he's fantastic at music, too. And very sweet, like when he helped comfort me after the whole Mike thing. I really owe you two for that one."

"No, you don't, Jess. We were happy to help." I hear Edward enter the car, but pay no mind. If she figures out I'm with him, she'll _flip_ and my ears just can't handle that level of squealing.

"So do you like him?" God, this girl just doesn't give up.

"Hm, yes."

"I mean, do you _like_ him, like him."

"Didn't I just answer that?"

"You are so _clueless_," she grumbles. "Bella, do you have a crush on him?"

"No, I do not." My face heats up. I hide my cheeks behind my hair before Edward can say anything, but that doesn't prevent his icy finger from gently poking them. "He's my friend. An amazing one at that. Besides, I don't think his feelings for me are that strong."

"If you say so. You really are clueless, Bella. Well, I'm off. Talk to you later!"

"See ya, Jess." I hang up and return my phone to my pocket. "Sorry about that."

"Hmm." His voice feels amused and irritated. Something tells me he listened to Jessica's voice when he got in.

"What is it?" He takes my hand and lightly squeezes it before letting it go and shifting gears. His breaking is light, almost unnoticeable. His focus on the road with those hard, golden eyes makes me shiver. "You gonna answer me? What's wrong? A new murder?"

"So, the waitress what _that _pretty, was she?" He asks, turning to the main road.

"I'm amazed you didn't notice."

"I had a lot on my mind."

"Ah. Poor girl." I shake my head, leaning back in the seat.

"Something you said to Jessica sort of ... _bothered _me." His voice is husky, more irritated than before.

"Well, you know what they say about dropping eaves, Edward."

"I couldn't help but overhear, you'll have to forgive me this time."

"And I told you you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."

"You did," he agrees, but his voice is still rough. "But you see, I _do_ want to know what you're thinking. I just ... there are a few things I wish you _didn't_ think."

I scoff. "You can't really control my thoughts, man."

"That's not really the point at the moment."

"Then what is?" He pulls into the side lot for the cafe, shutting the car off before leaning onto his right elbow, his face only inches from mine.

"Do you honestly think I don't feel _strongly_ for you?" he whispers. My breath catches in my throat. I stare at him, my brows furrowed. "Bella, you're ... the best friend I've had in decades. I've never felt so strongly for a human since I _was_ human."

"I didn't mean it like that... Edward, she meant do I think you have _romantic_ feelings for me." His eyes widen, cheeks taking a slight pink tinge to him. "I'm amazed you can blush."

"I still have blood, Bella." He grumbles, straightening up. He whispered something too quietly for me to hear, then looked back at me. "What makes you think I couldn't have romantic intent?"

"Well, aside from the obvious, you've only done 'flirty' things when trying to avoid the attention of other people." I shrug, thinking of how warm he felt after feeding of those ... off _them_.

"Perceptive," he looks down at my hand, carefully taking it in his. "Your warmth is ... comforting," he explains, but then his eyes narrow. "Wait, what do you mean, _the obvious_?"

"You mean other than the fact I'm pretty plain and you're _literally_ otherworldly in your attractiveness?" I lean back and wave my free hand at my body and then back at his. "I'm a bit of a klutz, and an apparent danger magnet."

His brow creases angrily for a moment, then smooths as his eyes take on a knowing gleam. "You don't see yourself clearly. I'll admit you're dead-on about the _bad _things," he chuckles darkly, "but you didn't hear what some boys in school were thinking on your first day."

"Oh please, now you're just playing with me," I unbuckle, checking my shoes before opening the door. He appears at my side in an instant, lacing our fingers together. Such a cute gesture, such a strange man.

"Trust me just this once, Bella. You're the _only_ person here who thinks you're ordinary." We walk to the door, no doubt looking like a couple to the hostess who waves us to the plethora of empty booths and tables. Most of the teenage patrons are at the tables, so we slide into a booth.

"Still, there isn't much to be besides books and falling over. You're the most interesting part of my life, next to learning Charlie works with Carlisle." Edward snorts, ordering a black coffee for himself. I take the most sugary abomination they make. "And a lot of my human friends think you're pretty creepy—though you probably know that... I-I'm sorry."

Abruptly, his mood shifts. A mischievous, devastating smile rearranges his features. "Perhaps that is beneficial. I'll keep the humans away so I can be your friend rather than your constant life saver."

"No one has tried to do away with me today," I remind him. He wags one finger and presses it to my nose, pushing my glasses up.

"_Yet_."

" ... yeah, okay, yet."

"I have another question for you." He pauses long enough for the hostess to set our drinks down.

"Hit me." I gulp my drink.

"Are you actually going to Jacksonville this Saturday, or were you trying to escape from Tyler?" I groan at the memory.

"Oh, please don't remind me. I still can't believe he asked."

He pulls on a fake puppy-pout. "Would you have turned _me_ down, Bella?"

"I dunno, probably. I don't really do dances, for fear of spraining my ankles."

"Odd thing to be afraid of. Most high school dances aren't that strenuous."

"While true, I've been my cursed since I broke my leg in ballet class as a kid."

"Are you referring to the fact that you can't walk across a flat, stable surface without finding something to trip over?" He says with a twittle of his fingers.

"How did you _know_?"

"That wouldn't be a problem." He radiates confidence. "It's all in the _leading_." He could see that I was about to protest, and he cut me off. "But back to the matter at hand. Are you dead set ongoing to Jacksonville, or would you mind a change?"

"I'm open to alternatives," I said, not actually planning on leaving my house on Saturday. To be completely honest, I was going to binge watch old horror movies all day, and night, and Sunday.

"Well, good! Because I want to take you back to Byrne's Books."

"Excuse me?" Okay, how did he know? Did he overhear me talking about it with Charlie, or is he just that good at guessing? The world may never know, but based on the actual innocence in his smile, I'm voting on happenstance.

"You heard me right. I saw the books, I saw the necklace, and with God as my witness, I saw whatever power you used to push that bastard away from you." Edward takes a drink. "It would be beneficial for you to learn how to control it. Especially if you plan on getting involved in my messed-up world."

"Okay ... on one condition."

"Lay it on me."

"Will you show me what you meant about the sun?"

"That was part of my plan. And uh ... if at any point you get uncomfortable being alone with me, we can swing by my house and let you meet Esme. She's the heart of the Olympic Coven."

"Is that what you call yourselves?" I chuckle.

"Named after the peninsula we are nestled on, yes. Carlisle picked it ages ago, when we built our first house up here."

"What a nerd."

"Tell me about it." Edward chews his bottom lip, glancing around. "And uh ... to answer an unspoken question, just to save some face, I don't eat humans a lot. Only on special occasions, like last night. Typically, the only predator I go after are mountain lions."

"Whoa... I think I've been underestimating how strong you all are."

"Of course," he says in a foppish tone, pulling out a slight British accent, "we are careful _not _to impact the environment with our hunting. We focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators and take only what we need. Besides, where's the fun in hunting something as docile as a deer?" He snickers, his nose scrunching. He leans on his hand. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm trying to picture a group of people hunting bears with no weapons. It's extraordinary, but difficult to envision without some ... additions."

"You mean like ... _these?_" He flashes his bright teeth in a brief, threatening smile. I fight back a shout, but cannot hide the shock on my face. "Now you see why I don't open my mouth very wide around people. This is the one thing we can't make disappear." He runs his tongue over the rows of sharp, lion-like teeth, wrapping his lips around them before leaning back.

"Are there... other weapons you have?"

"None that I can show you while the sun is hidden. Rest assured, all in good time."

I try to smile. "Well, that's no fun." My mind is filled with opposing images that I can't merge. "Might I ... watch you hunt sometime?"

"_Absolutely not_!" His face turns even whiter than usual, and his eyes are horrified. I lurch back, staring at him with my hands over my heart. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "S-sorry... sorry."

"What? Too scary for me?" I ask, my voice trembling. I mentally kick myself for a slightly different _unconscious_ reaction. Why are you like this, body?

"If it was fear I was worried about, then I'd let you go every time. You _need_ a healthy dose of that, though you'd probably laugh at it."

"Then why?" Edward sniffles and sucks in through his teeth.

"Later, say, after some dicking around at the arcade, okay?" His eyes are pleading. I nod just to see his smile return.

"Okay, sounds good." I won't forget.


	12. Cold Hands, Warm Heart

I can feel the eyes on us the moment we enter _Newton's Games n' Grub_. Our hands locked together, Edward pulls as close to me as possible with every brief glance and giggle. His body tenses, his jaw locks, and his hands lock with mine. But no one here sees that. They see Edward Cullen, local recluse, out with the still-new-girl. They see the mask. The mask that has shattered for me. All I see when I look in his eyes is an anxious young man in a crowd of gawkers. I gently run my hand over his icy arm, trying to comfort him. He sighs softly, his body slacking a bit. Before I can speak, he buys us $20 worth of gaming tokens and smirks at me.

"I bet I can kick your ass at Mortal Kombat."

"You expect me to believe you're a gamer?"

"Well, I had hoped." He chuckles on our way to the machines. "Truth be told, this isn't exactly my ... erm, element. Loud, smells like grease and teen _spirit_."

"Edward, why'd you agree to come if you're not comfortable?" I shake my head, wishing just once I could understand his thought process. He shrugs, looking sheepish.

"... I could go anywhere with you, Bella." His eyes land on an old Pac-Man game, and he inserts a token. "Could you give a poor old man a lesson, _ma chérie_?"

"Only if you tell me how long you've been speaking French, _monsieur _nerd." I snort, stepping up to the control with a huge, barbaric grin. Have I played this before? Well, no. Before my time. But unlike Edward, I know my way around a joystick.

... oh god, that came out wrong.

"About fifty years," he says with a nonchalant shrug. "Esme insisted we all learn a second language, exempting Carlisle purely because of his knowledge of Scottish Gaelic."

"Huh, I thought he was British."

"He is, but he lived in Scotland for decades after his transformation. Maybe even centuries. I'll ask him."

"Man," I blink, taking in a sharp breath before escaping the orange ghost on screen, "to see what he's seen..."

"To be honest, he'd be lecturing you if he heard that. Especially when you consider his birth era was full of illness and slavery. It didn't end even after he could legally marry Esme. I mean," he purses his lips and bobbles his head, "sure the marriage isn't _technically_ legal because they're both ... dead, but to Esme, it was important that they wait."

"Was she very young?"

"No, she's physiologically older than all of us, Carlisle included. But she couldn't marry a white man when she was human, and for decades after becoming a vampire. We all fought so the law would catch up with logic."

An hour goes by like nothing. We hop from game-to-game; me kicking his ass in the first couple goes. Not surprisingly, Edward is a fast learner. Occasionally, his fingers lace with mine, or he will tap random rhythms on my shoulders and arm while playing with his other hand. His cold skin sends small chills up my arm, down my spine. Like my body is reminding me of just what he is. Like it's telling me to run.  
I smile up at him when we're done, hugging a stuffed penguin to my chest. He shakes his head and laces his fingers behind his head.

"Well, that was about as interesting as a dental cleaning."

"Mine or yours?"

"Psh. C'mon, where to next?" He starts toward his car but stops out of the blue. "A-actually ... wait for a sec. I have to go to the restroom."

"A new fun fact: vampires piss."

"I drank too much soda, it happens!" He flips my hair over my face and takes off inside, leaving me laughing and fighting with myself for a couple seconds. But once I'm able to see, I understand just why he wanted to get away.

"Bella, hey!" Mike calls, jogging up to me from apparently nowhere. He glances over my shoulders, shaking his head. "So that's what I missed? You and Cullen." He squints, crossing his arms. "Can't say I saw that coming. Nor do I uh ... well, like it."

"Well, first off, it isn't like that. And second, why do you even care? You ditched us all after rejecting Jessica." Mike scoffs, looking away from me.

"I didn't mean to hurt her, okay? And she should know that. Not my fault she dove in without looking." His neutral face slowly forms a wicked grin. "Well, if you two aren't a couple, then why are you two holding hands and clinging to each other in my dad's arcade? I saw the whole thing."

You have _got_ to be kidding me.

"He's my friend, Mike. So, what if he likes being close to me? Or holding my hand? If you'd stuck around with us, you'd know what Edward is like! A smart, affectionate, funny guy ... the exact opposite of _you._" And with that spat out, I storm straight to Edward's car, mumbling about the idiocy of Mike the entire time.

I'll admit that I'm shocked to find Edward already in the car, looking down at his lap.

"... you heard him, didn't you?" I ask, knowing the answer already.

"He thinks I'm a pervert because of ... I-I'm sorry." He lets out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders. "Thank you for defending me. You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did." I say, taking his hand in mine. "You're my best friend." He clicks his tongue and chuckles. "What?"

"Nothing, I just ... I guess I never expected to hear that."

"If I recall correctly, you didn't want us to be friends in the first place."

"You recall _in_correctly. I said it wasn't a good idea, smartass." We share a short laugh and he starts the car. About five seconds later we're on the road again, singing along to some random CD Edward's popped in. The musical vibes I got from his speaking voice don't hold a candle to how beautiful his singing is, even to some old pop-punk song. When the song ends he glances out the window and scoffs.

A crowd has gathered around Rosalie's pink convertible, parked by the hospital Carlisle works at. Unmistakable envy and shock in their eyes. None of them notice Edward and I on the road, but all of them scatter when his heavy hand blasts on the horn. He gives a bitter chuckle.

"_Ostentatious_," he grimaces.

"Do Alice and Jasper have super sporty cars, too?"

"Alice, no. She never learned how to drive, doesn't want to. She has a collection of bicycles that'll shock you. As for Jay, his just a black version of mine. Man's never cared for sticking out." He sucks on his lip for a second. "Esme's is a little neon bug. Just what you'd expect for a woman with purple cornrows and paint on every article of clothing she owns."

"So basically, everyone's vehicles matches their personality?"

"Hammer meet nail." He stops the car. I look up — we're already at my house, right behind my truck. "Questions?"

"What happens to you when you hunt?" He squints at me, probably not sure how to take my phrasing. It sounds pretty stupid at second thought. "The way you reacted to me wanting to see it, I figure it means something _changes_ about you."

"When we hunt," he speaks slowly, unwillingly, "instinct takes over. We're no longer Edward or Rosalie or Carlisle. We're _vampires_, racing through trees, silently and tackling creatures three times our size with ten times their strength. Even those of us who file our teeth can tear into flesh like butter."

He looks at me, our eyes locking. My face shows nothing, internally I'm fighting a horrific image. The good doctor drenched in blood, little Alice looking like a panther with a shredded bobcat in her arms. Edward, clutching a familiar human body to his chest...

Our eyes hold, the silence deepens — and changes. The air is thick, palpable. His eyes seem full of electricity, pupils wide. It isn't until the lightning strikes in them that I notice he's leaning toward me. I draw in a jagged breath, feeling the stillness in my lungs. He closes his eyes and ...

"I think I should get out now." He leans back, nodding his head.

"Have a good night, Bella." Edward smiles, facing forward.

I open the door, the arctic draft that bursts into the car clearing my head. I stomp to the door, listening to the crunch under my feet. I don't hear Edward back out until my hand is at the doorknob. And then he's gone, vanishing without a trace. I let out a breath as I step into the living room.

I've already decided that Charlie is probably _not_ going to be home in time for dinner, so I whip out my phone and send him a text, so he'll know I made something for myself. Now that exactly that will be is in the air. I hang my coat up and start planning out a quick and warm meal.

Twenty minutes later, I'm in my pajamas, curled up with a bowl of mac-n-cheese and some reruns of a corny soap playing on the TV. Other than the lack of school, today was normal. I talked to Jess, hung out with Edward, glared at Mike. Nothing out of the ordinary. So why does my gut keep churning every time I see Edward's face in my mind? Why do I keep squirming at the thought of his teeth?

I can't focus on it too long without losing my appetite, so I don't. I devour my lazy meal and curl up on the couch, hoping to hear Charlie come home soon. When sleep comes calling, I don't fight it.

Edward is in my dreams again. But it feels like the exact climate of my unconscious mind has changed. Everything is electrified. His eyes on me, the air on my bare body. I'm completely exposed, walking slowly along a plank, darkness engulfs me. But I'm moving steady, and he is alongside me — a misty, transparent apparition that goes in and out of my sight with every beat of my frantic heart.

"_You've got this, Bella. I'm right here if you need me._"

The world shifts, my body locks on the narrow board as I traverse now through the thick, green forest of Forks. Now he's behind me, one arm wrapped protectively around my midsection. A growl, _his_ growl, sends a violent chill down my spine.

"Edward?"

"_He's coming... I can't stop him."_

"Who...?"

"_Oh, Bella..." _The voice, the one that tricked me, calls out in the distance.

"Who is that? Edward?" I try to look at him, but my face is stuck in the direction of the unknown man.

"_... the hunter. Bella, I lov—_"

I wake exhausted, somehow in my bedroom, looking straight at the water-stained ceiling. After ten minutes, I pull a flannel on over my sleep shirt without caring how grungy I look. Charlie has fried eggs and hash browns ready, smiling in his uniform while I trudge down the stairs. His smile fades as he watches me pull my tangled hair into a scrunchie.

"Bella, are you feeling alright?"

"Huh...?"

"You look like you slept on a rock. What happened? Bad dreams?" I look up at him, a little shocked at how accurate his guess is. "You should think about keeping a dream journal. I've kept one for a while, haven't had a uh ... a _nightmare_ since."

"It wasn't a nightmare, just an exhausting dream." I plop in my chair, sipping the orange juice by my plate.

"Hmm..." Charlie taps his fingers on the counter, considering. "Well, maybe.. bah, never mind. I think it's the town, it gets to people." He waves his hand around his head, changing the subject. "Did you finally come up with plans for Saturday? You know the dance is still going on, maybe it'd be fun."

"I've made a plan, actually... Edward wants to take me back to the weird man's bookstore. He thinks there's something behind the whole eh ... Gift theory Mr. Byrne proposed." I take a larger drink. "I was thinking about doing that anyway, so at least I won't have to waste my own gasoline now."

"Ah, I see. You and him have been getting awful close lately."

"Well, he saved my life ... more than once.." I finish softly, poking my eggs with the fork.

"Carlisle said that you're all Edward's been talking about for the past few days," he clears his throat, "even when he was giving us my file he went on about how much you sassed him Monday morning. I was, uh ... was wondering if you wanted to fill me in on something."

I freeze.

"On ... what, Dad?"

"Just clear my conscience, considering you hardly talk about him."

"I've done plenty of talking lately. There's really not much to say. Other than our respective species, we have some things in common. Music, literature, things like that. It's nice."

"And kissing?"

"_What?_"

"Greg Newton told me that his son was blowing up about you and Edward kissing in their arcade yesterday." I swallow my eggs hard and sneer. "That is what _I_ said."

"Edward and I were _not_ kissing! I know it looks weird. I'm fully aware. But he likes to be close to me because of how warm I am. He's been using me as a hot water bottle since Port Angeles." I sigh, rubbing my cheeks. "There is nothing going on between us."

Charlie swishes his juice in his mouth, nods, swallows, and clears his throat with a cough. "I believe you. Something in my gut tells me that you'd've let me know if you were dating someone." He winks, chuckling as he clears his plate. "Besides, there are worse guys to hook up with in Forks."

"Yeah, and the entire list is Mike Newton."

When Charlie leaves, I find myself in the upstairs bathroom, glaring at my reflection. Everything about it is just too much right now. The cystic acne, the tangled mass I have to call hair, even the thick-rimmed glasses I love are pissing me off right now. There is just nothing good about today, I can feel it in my gut.

Maybe my period has come early. That would be _fantastic_.

I grab Charlie's beard scissors and do the dumbest thing I can think of. I take off thick wads of hair, growling and huffing with every clump that cascades down to the floor. By the time it finally registers with me just what I'm doing, the damage is done. Oh ... oh shit! I stare at the absolute mess of a ... a bob? I guess that's a bob ... that touches my shoulders in some spots and tickles my neck in others. Somehow it fits with my overall aesthetic for the day, but when Charlie gets home, I am going to hear it.

"Shit shit shit shiiiiit!"

A quick succession of knocks and a sharp squeal later, I'm looking at Edward and Alice in the mirror. Her sharp, pixie face is absolutely horrified. And his? Well, the Comedy mask's smile is smaller.

"Were you attacked by an electric razor?"

"Go to hell."

"You look ... _horrific_. Are you okay?"

"I couldn't sleep," I grumble, rubbing my temples.

"It was bad enough for you to do _that_ to your head?"

"Yeah, I guess it was." I see him look down at the still stunned Alice from the mirror.

"So, Malice, is this the emergency you saw in my future?"

"Well, it was Chef Swan's ... I saw him shouting her name in a panic, I thought something was wrong, something we could prevent, but _this_!" She grabs my shoulders and forces me to sit on the toilet lid. How is she so ... right, vampire. Stupid Bella. "You are lucky I went to beauty school, Bella. Allow me."

"I guess that means we'll miss our ask game today." I smile weakly at Edward, gently kicking his leg when he locks in on the box of Kotex on the vanity. I knew I should have put those away.

"Just ignore me, hon" Alice grins playfully, picking up my comb and the discarded scissors. "Mary Alice Brandon is a master hairdresser."

"Okay then... so, uh ... your turn Edward?"

"Yep! So ... mmm ... aha, favorite color?"

"Going for the hard ones, eh? Tell you the truth, it seems to change day-to-day."

"What's the color of the day, then?"

"Probably brown." I watch as small sprinkles of brown hair go down my shoulders and in front of my glasses. He snorts and rolls his eyes.

"Brown? Seriously?" Edward shakes his head, obviously skeptical.

"Yes, seriously. Brown is warm, comforting. It reminds me of chocolate, and my parents, and Phoenix. Most everything was brown there — the trees, the roads, and rocks, even the smells. But green is slowly growing on me." He tilts his head, biting his lower lip in consideration. After a moment, he curtly nods.

"You're right, brown is warm." He reaches over slowly and ruffled my garish hair, earning a stab from Alice. "And soft."

He waits a little bit before asking the next question, his eyes following Alice's scissor work carefully. Like he's worried she may cut me. But strangely enough, I feel at ease with her working with my hair. Maybe it's her cool hands or her soft face. She has the focus of a hawk.

"What music is in your CD player right now?"

"The last CD I listened to in my player was Green Day. Though I've got a collection. Sometimes it's them, other days Mozart or Dead Kennedys, even some Disney. I'm not too picky."

"How cute!" She straightens my posture, brushing the fallen hair off my clothes at the speed of sound. Slight exaggeration, but only just so. "All right, you're taken care of." She hugs me tight, popping my spine in the process. I can barely manage a squeak of thanks.

"C'mon, Alice, don't break my friend." Edward pulls us apart, holding my hand gently.

"Aww, don't be such a killjoy, Edward. I just know she and I are going to be _great _friends." She winks at me before quickly cleaning the bathroom up. "So, you two going to hang today?"

"I was actually hoping to stay in today," I admit sheepishly, running my hand through my much shorter haircut. "I know school's out this week, but I really want to catch up on my homework."

"I can help." Edward offers, a pleading gleam to his eyes.

"Okay! Then I'll see you tonight, Edward. I'll make sure Jay doesn't steal any of your food."

She leaves before I can fully thank her, but I'm not going to complain. I can still feel the buzz of her abundant energy cracking through the room. Mary Alice, no wonder Edward calls her "Malice".

"Before you even ask," he starts, "yes, she is always like that. Now imagine _living_ with her. Back to the matter at hand. Which room?"

With study materials surrounding us on my bedroom floor, he asks the occasional minor question at random. Movies I love and hate, the few places I've been and the many I want to see, and books — endless books. When I tell him to browse my collection, his curiosity shifts to surprise, but even that fades after a moment.

"I suppose a girl who is comfortable with vampires would have multiple novels on the subject," he remarks absently.

I can't remember the last time I've talked so much. I honestly started to think he would be bored of me by noon, but he is relentless, leaning in and smiling with every answered question or small story he probes from me. Like why my favorite gemstone is amethyst rather than my birth month's sapphire ("I think purple is a calmer color, blue makes me think of drowning."), or what my favorite flower is ("I don't have one, but lately I've been fond of lilies").

The later the day gets, the more complex his questions turn. He focuses on Phoenix, about what I missed most, insisting on descriptions of anything he wasn't familiar with. Once my homework is done, we sit on the steps of my house for hours, listening to the cars and the crickets as I search my brain for the right words to use.

I try my best to describe impossible things, like the scent of creosote — bitter, slightly resinous, pleasant — the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with burgundy volcanic rock.

Everything about the barren land is beautiful to me, and try as I may to explain, the best I can get him to understand is that to me it is home. The half-dead vegetation and shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills fill me with joy every time I imagine them. And the sun ... oh, the sun.

His quiet questions keep me talking freely, and while it bothers me that I am taking up the entire conversation, he hasn't tried to change it to him even once. He simply watches the sky, smiling all the while. After a moment of silence, I look at him.

"Are we finished?"

"Oh, not even close. But I need to be getting home..." Edward faces the western horizon, obscured with clouds. "It's dusk... the safest time of day for us," he says, answering the unspoken question in my eyes. "But also the saddest, in a way. The end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, isn't it?"

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars." I frown, glancing at the covered sky. "When they show themselves, anyway."

He laughs, looking down the empty road. "Charlie will be here in a few minutes. Want me to shove off, or wait and say 'Hello'?"

"Might as well hang around. My dad trusts you enough. I guess it's my turn tomorrow?"

"Certainly _not_!" His face is teasingly outraged. "I told you I wasn't finished, didn't I?"

"C'mon, what all is there to ask me?"

"You'll find out tomorrow." He crosses his arms, his smile gone in an instant. His entire body stiffens, but his nostrils flare. I can hear him take in deep breaths, searching the air. "Oh, boy..."

"What is it?" His jaw clenches, his eyes wide in concern.

He glances at me for a brief second. "A complication," he says with a forced smile. He hugs me tight before rushing to his car, closing the door when a flash of headlights steals my attention. A dark car pulls to the curb facing us.

"Charlie's around the corner," he calls from his window, facing the other vehicle. "I'll see you tomorrow evening, Bella!"

I try to make out the shapes in the front seat of the car, but it's too dark. All I can see is Edward, his face an amalgam of frustration and sorrow. He revs the engine, out of sight in just a matter of seconds.

"Oh, Bella!" calls a familiar, cracking voice from the driver's side of the little black car.

"Jules?" I ask, approaching the black car. Just then, Charlie's cruiser swings around the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of the car in front of me.

Julie has already climbed out, her wide grin visible even through the darkness. In the passenger seat is a much older, heavyset man with a memorable face — a face that overflows, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with creases running through the skin like old leather. I know him immediately. Billy Black, Julie's father. He just watches me, scrutinizing my face. I smile tentatively at him. Billy's eyes widen, the black irises locked on me with shock. My face falls, and I step back. _A complication..._

Billy continues to stare at me with intense, anxious eyes. And in those eyes I can see the legends of the Quileute come alive.

The soul of a wolf reaches out to me protectively.


	13. Balancing Act

"Isabella Marie!" Charlie shouts as soon as he emerges from the car. Julie stops in her tracks, watching my dad storm toward me with wide eyes. "What the hell happened to your hair?" He isn't angry, I realize after examining his face. Just ... surprised. I struggle to find the words as Billy and Julie make their way to our porch.

"Well ... you see, I had an argument with some scissors ... and I just ... I got it fixed. Do you hate it?" I fluff my hair, liking how light it feels.

"I think it's cute. I just ... a little warning would be nice." He looks toward Billy, who nods.

"Still, better than when this little lady butchered her hair with play scissors."

"Speaking of," he cocks his head at Julie. "I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel."

"We get permits early on the rez," Julie says while Charlie opens the front door. His only response is a humorless laugh.

"Hey now, I gotta get around somehow." We all turn to Billy, who is taking his time in his wheelchair. I back out of the way so Charlie and Jules can help Billy into the house. Once we're all inside, Charlie smiles at his old friend.

"This is quite a surprise."

"I hope it's not a bad time," his eyes flash in my direction, unreadable. "Julie wanted to see Bella again, and I've been missing _my _buddy, as well." Billy returns Charlie's grin, easily maneuvering so his chair settles beside Charlie's recliner. "Perfect fit."

"Like always." Charlie chuckles. I clear my throat.

"So, Julie, you wanna come on up?" I gesture to the stairs. We both look at the dads, already lost in conversation and each other.

"Do I? It'll be less awkward."

She's at the top landing before I can turn. Curse those long legs. By the time I cross the threshold to my bedroom, she's sitting on my bed, cross-legged, head turning in all directions. I pull the desk chair out, sitting and spinning in it with glee. It takes me off guard when Julie's long arm stops me, her face severe.

"My friends have nicknamed you Vampire Girl. Is it true? Are you hanging around the coven?"

"I ... well, yes. Just Edward, mostly." Julie nods, dark eyes flicking up for a second. Then she looks at me and smiles.

"Well, good. I'm glad someone finally befriended that nimrod."

"Say what?"

"Ha! I had you, didn't I? Sorry about the scare, I just wanted to make sure you'd be honest. I recognized the ginger nerd through the window, and since Charlie's cruiser wasn't there yet, there was only one conclusion."

"Oh." I nod, considering. "Yeah, that uh ... that makes sense. Is that why your dad eyeballed me so hard?"

"Well ... he's just making sure the treaty is still valid. We've changed it over the years, added and subtracted from it, but one stays strong. They can't feed from humans, period."

Oh, shit...

"Would it be obvious if he had?" I expose my forearms to her, making it absolutely clear that nothing has happened.

"It would. Your body would be scarred, forever. Typically, around the neck or wrist. And your body would start to change at that point. We trust the Olympic Coven as much as the town does, but we have to be sure laws are being followed."

"What happens if they break the treaty? Do you expose them?"

"No. We have the express permission of the three heads to execute the Cullen family if even _one _slips up." The air stills around us, I can feel my hands shake. God, just the idea of that ... what would it take to kill the Cullens? A stake? Silver? Fire?

"But," Julie interrupts my thoughts, "unlike my dad, I'm not worried about them doing anything. They're a peaceful group, quiet. Not like the nomads that have been killing people left-and-right all month."

"I thought Charlie took care of them. He said that's what he and Carlisle have been working on."

"They can only stop them if they can find the bloodsuckers. This group, two or three last I heard, has been evading them completely. Charlie says they see a flash of really dark red and then they're gone. J-just ... _poof_, gone." Julie rubs her hands together, considering. " ... they won't tell me anything, but I've got this awful feeling. They keep getting closer to the reservation."

"I'm sure they'll be caught before then, Julie."

"I'm not... we don't have the same protections that you do, Bella. Not from the police, not from the government. The Quileute, we're on our own. Even with the Cullens helping, I don't know if we'd survive a vampire attack."

For the rest of the week, Julie's words haunt me. The crack of her voice, the fear in her eyes. And then her description — a flash of red before nothing. Every night for the rest of the week I see a being cloaked in a red halo, either beside or following along the _hunter_ from my prior dreams. As of now, I don't know if they are truly connected, or if my brain enjoys torturing me with What-Ifs that I may never know the answer to. When Friday finally arrives, exhaustion keeps me in bed, staring at the blurry ceiling, for close to an hour after I wake.

I don't hear Charlie knock, but I know he just did. I don't hear him enter my room, or say my name, but I know he has. His rough hands gently prod my cheek. My eyes look at his face, out of focus yet readable. He's worried.

Or maybe I'm just melodramatic.

"Hey Dad, what's going on?"

"You're normally out of bed by now, it's time for me to go to work. Are you feeling okay?"

"Just ... thinking about things. Vampires, magic, the normal crap."

"Ah, I see. How are you, uh ... have you been having any more dreams?"

"Yes, but fortunately none about those assholes in Port Angeles. Just dreams. Normal dreams."

His face fills with relief at my little lie. I wish the pang I felt was guilt.

"Good." Charlie leans down and kisses my forehead. "Do you need anything? I can stay home if you want me to."

"Don't worry about me, Dad. I'll just go from here to the couch once you go. I need a shower anyway."

"You sure do." He barely dodges the pillow I fling his way. "Alright, I'll text you when I'm headed home. You and Edward, uh ... have a pleasant trip." I groan, pushing my face into the pillow. "My thoughts exactly. Love you, Bells."

"Love you too, Dad."

While the scorching water pours over me, I ponder on how today will go. This has to be the most pivotal Saturday of my life. I'm going to be alone all day, with a vampire, a witch, and possibly a second vampire. And just a few months ago, I didn't think any of them existed. I step over the tub ledge, the white shine reflecting like a knife in my blurry eyes. Will I fall off the edge today? Will this be the last trip I ever take?

None of that matters anymore, I decide, brushing a comb through my shaggy hair. I've wanted to understand this town since I first met Edward, and with the supernatural reaching into my own bones, the last thing I want to do is give up now. The last thing I want to do is abandon him.

By the time I have my shoulder bag packed and my clothes on, I check my watch. I've got an hour before Edward will get here. Alice sends me a series of texts showing the spot she and the others are hunting at today—I still don't know how she got my number, and Edward claims innocence. Somehow, I believe him.

To combat possible boredom, I hop up to my room to find an old book to skim through. My mind is pretty set on a Swedish vampire novel Renee sent me, but the sight of the unopened bags on my desk draw me over. I open it and look down, the necklace and two tomes staring up at me. I take the gem and a book before heading back to the living room, using the sounds of screams and evil laughter as the soundtrack to my reading session.

There is a bookmark just barely peeking out from the top of the book, titled _A State of Mind_. I turn to it.

"Chapter Seven," I read aloud, playing with the rainbow quartz around my neck. "Mental ... Shields? One of the most powerful defensive powers, those with an inborn mental shield will find they cannot be victims of any psychological-based attack, from telepathy to hypnosis." I read over that paragraph multiple times, each time my eyes lock on the word telepathy. That's the mind reading one, right? Edward's power. Could ... could this be why he can't read my mind? Is this the Gift Jessica's uncle mentioned?

I turn the page right as a soft knock pulls me from my thoughts. I check my watch—he's twenty minutes early. I fly to the door, book in hand, unlocking it and yanking it open with a big smile. Edward looks down at me, somewhat somberly, but after a second his brows raise, his lips curl, and he starts to laugh.

"Good morning!"

"Glad to see you're in a good mood," I laugh with him, amazed at his demeanor change. Is he really this happy to see me? That's when his finger drifts downward, to my legs. My head slowly faces the offending direction, and embarrassment pulls a shriek from my throat. "Oh my God, I forgot my pants!"

His laughter reaches all the way to my bedroom as I pull on an old pair of gray cargo pants.

"There is a lot to unpack in this small space." I turn swiftly, Edward looking around my room with his hands in his pocket.

"Hey, don't snoop!" He raises his hands innocently.

"I've already done that, though no drawers were opened. I can live my life without knowing what brand of undies you wear. Well, I could have anyway." Edward leans against the doorframe, his crooked smile never faltering. "I see you're preparing for the day."

I remember the book still in my hands. "Oh ... yeah. I figured it wouldn't be a bad idea to at least have an inkling of what Mr. Byrne meant."

"You read that much of the book already?"

"No, I'm not that fast. He had a chapter marked for me. On mental shields." Edward's brows furrow, but he doesn't look completely lost. He mouths the words a couple times before light flashes through his eyes.

"Of course ... that's why I can't read your mind. It has to be. But I've never seen a shield that can," he raises his hands and thrusts them, "_push_ people physically." I shrug, flicking the light off and leading us down to the door.

"Maybe there's more to it than that."

He starts the car, the CD symbol lighting up. "This," he begins as rock music plays, "should prevent you from getting too car sick. I can make the hour drive in twenty minutes if you're willing to trust me." Edward cracks his knuckles, setting my bag in the back seat. "I drove slow for you once, but this time ole Ed's in a hurry."

"For the love of ..." I close my eyes and focus on the music. "Just do it."

"Hi-Yo Silver! Away!" I don't feel the car move, but I can hear the surrounding air. The soft roar of the road, the hum of the motor. And Edward's hypnotic voice singing along with Lauri Ylönen perfectly. I smile in his direction.

"Was it hard to adapt to how music has changed in your life?"

"Kinda, yeah. The biggest shock was heavy metal. The growling vocals and distortions would have given me a heart attack if I was ... well, actually my age." He laughs softly. "But after a while, I grew to like it. Not saying I'd pick Manson and Ghost over Debussy or Screamin' Jay Hawkins, but I've no qualms listening to them or playing the music myself."

"That was, like, three or four different centuries of music you listed." I open my eyes, looking at the walls of foliage around us. His driving is more bearable if I pretend I'm in a ride.

"I was a teen when Debussy died, fun fact." I pull out my phone to do some quick math, double checking both the current year and the year Claude Debussy passed away. "Oh wonderful, you remembered Google exists."

"He died in 1918, Edward. You're older than my _gramma_, Edward!" I shove the phone screen against his cheek. "You're old as _fuck_, Edward."

"I am an inch away from kicking you out of my car."

Edward's phone vibrates violently, and his eyes flick over to me. I win the slight stalemate when he takes the phone, unlocks it, and hands it to me.

"Go ahead, read it to me. I may drive like a maniac, but I know my limits."

I look at the texts, the contact name cluing me in straight away.

"Alice wishes you luck with Rowan, says to avoid the south side of town, and wants to remind you to ... uh ..." I hesitate.

"Something up, Bella?"

"This seems a little too personal. In fact," I turn the screen off, "I regret reading it." I slide the phone over to his jacket pocket and purse my lips. So, he stares at my neck. Apparently, a lot. Oh, wow. I reach up without thinking and rub the side of my neck facing him.

He picks up right away.

"Okay, in my defense, my instinct is to scope out all prey."

"Still creepy."

"Malice does it too."

"I'm not alone in a car with her, though."

"I swear to God, I'm gonna drive off a bridge."

"Subject change?"

"Subject change." I click my tongue.

"I noticed the thread was mostly her speaking. And it was all similar to that. Does she just keep an eye out for you?" He chuckles.

"She does for us all. One eye in the future, she makes sure to steer us away from possible slips. Especially me lately. I'm, uh... the most at risk. Three guesses as to why."

"Is that why she and the others moved to the group table? To monitor us?"

"Yes... it was all her idea, though. Jay and Rose protested, but lost in the end. You see, Alice is the most... _supportive_ of the coven." He frowns as he spoke.

"And the others?"

His brow puckers for a brief moment. "Cynical, for the most part."

"So, they don't like me?"

"It's not that," he shakes his head, his eyes too innocent. "They just ... they don't understand why I can't stay away from you. Why I like you, basically."

I nod. "Neither do I, for that matter."

Edward rolls his eyes to the sky before he meeting my gaze. "I told you — you don't see yourself at all. You're not like anyone I've ever known. And I've known many people."

I glare at him.

He smiles as he deciphers my expression. "Having the advantages I do," he says, touching his temple, "I have a solid grasp of human nature. Everyone is predictable. But you? You never do what I expect. You always take me by surprise."

I look away, my eyes wandering around the swiftly changing scenery. At this moment, I'm glad Edward's powers don't affect me. He may not like knowing that I feel like a science experiment of his.

"That part is easy enough to explain," he continues. I feel his eyes on my face, but I can't look at him yet. I can almost feel the quiver in his icy breath. "But there's something that I just ... can't put into words." That pulls my attention from the trees, and I look at Edward's flushing face with curiosity.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You see... it's dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with you so publicly..." He stops, choking.

"If?"

"If this ends... _badly_." His voice drops to the road, his hands trembling. I reach over and lay my hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently. Next thing I know, we're pulled over, and he's hugging me across the console, his cold face buried in my neck. He's shaking, his hands clutch my shirt tight.

I realize slowly that his words should frighten me. I wait for that fear to come, but all I can feel is the need to wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze him gently.

"I trust you, Edward. Don't be afraid." He pulls back and opens his door, his crooked smile a little weaker than normal.

"You ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be."

The bell rings, signaling to the brown-haired owner than we've arrived. His entire body animates with his excited smile, his slight gasp. Mr. Byrne races over, taking my hands gently in his.

"Miss Swan, I'm so happy to see you again. And with the necklace! It suits you so well. Who is," he looks up, eyes widening, "your ... _friend_?"

"I believe your associate may know me," Edward says before I can open my mouth. He looks over Rowan's shoulder, at a distant door that I barely notice. "Edward Masen, the Second." His name. _That _name. I've heard that before. The woman from my dream. She was Mrs. Masen. What's going on? No, no. Don't panic right now. You can bad-cop Edward on the way back to Forks. Until then, just roll with it. "I've been to a couple gatherings that Gabriel has hosted with my sire, Carlisle Cullen."

"Ah, yes." Rowan doesn't lose his spunk. "I remember Carlisle fondly, and your gorgeous red hair is hard to miss. Well, sadly, my husband is asleep. You ought to know how hard it is to wake the dead. But I'll make sure he knows you visited, Mr. Masen."

"I appreciate that." He steps to the side, smiling down at me. "But for now, we need to focus on Bella. Your little hint toward her — what, Gift? — has a bit of a caveat."

"Oh?" Rowan looks at me, head tilted to the side. "What happened?"

"Well," I swallow hard. "After I left, I came close to ... a _dangerous _situation. Matter of fact, I was in it." My hand shakes, but I keep my cool. "Somehow, I pushed the man away without touching him. It was like ... electricity, from my mind to my hands."

"A physical shield." The man's eyes crinkles with joy. "Oh, wonderful! You're even more powerful than I thought. I suppose you've kept up with your practice since then, yes?" I hiss through my teeth, glancing at Edward. He snorts, shaking his head. "That would be a 'no'." Rowan concludes, shaking his head.

"You see, I just learned I can do this stuff. I don't know how to make it happen when I want. The only reason I could then was out of pure panic." He nods, tapping his chin.

"You had motivation, and a mindset that would lead to protective instinct kicking in. Fight, flight, freeze." He points to me. "You fought, using defense as an offence in fact. Even without knowing you had that power."

"Oh, and I can block mind readers." I nod to Edward. "Apparently."

"That's a given, honey. That is the most basic power a shield has. And it isn't the whole of it. As you progress," he paces, using his hands to illustrate in the air, "you'll be able to prevent all attacks, both psychological and physical. Gifts are as unpredictable as the people who have them. You never know when you'll meet someone who can manipulate your emotions at a glance, or cause you to feel pain with a blink." He looks at Edward. "Did you bring her here for me to train her?"

"I figured the man who can tell someone he just met exactly what special powers she has can also teach her how to use them." Edward rationalizes, crossing his arms.

"Well, sadly I can't. I can't teach you how to use something I don't have. Hell, I hadn't met a shield until you came through my door. It's a rare talent, but useful. I gave you the tools you need to hone your abilities in, Miss Swan. It is entirely up to you if you use them."

"But ... I don't even know where to _start_." I take a step toward him, palms open.

"You're not the only one who was once a beginner in this room. We all started where you are. For now, the best thing to do is study, and work on focusing your energy. You'll learn how to control your powers in time. Now, I suggest you both leave." Rowan glances over his shoulder. "He's waking up, and unlike you, Mr. Masen, his eyes are _empty_."

It's just hitting noon when we cross the Forks line. We spent the entire trip in total silence, Edward more-or-less leaving me to stew in my panic. My mind races with just how I can even attempt to control something I can't see, can't feel, and didn't know I could do.

Edward clears his throat.

"Remember when I mentioned my struggles when I first became a vampire?"

"Hmm? Uh, yeah. Yeah, a little."

"Well, it wasn't all thirst. I could hear ... _everything_. Every thought, every spoken word, every pin drop. For weeks all I could do was lay on the ground, my mind throbbing to the point of splitting my skull open." He chuckles softly, "and here I am, a century later, able to selectively hear everything and everyone—besides you."

"I'm not going to live that long, Edward." He shrugs, never looking away from the road.

"Regardless, panic and fear didn't help me one bit. It made it worse. It overwhelmed me. I think we can help you learn to focus this ability. Your dad, my coven, even the Black family. The weirdos of the world have to stick together."

"..." I chuckle and shake my head. He glances at me, his lip twitching. "... thanks, Edward. That helped a bit."

"Great! That's a massive relief. Now, we drive until the pavement ends." Edward says with a smile. I nod, still on edge from the whole situation. And... is now a good time to bring up ... no... no, not yet. That's one little ... _weirdness_ of mine I'm not ready to tell him about.

"And what's there, at the pavement's end?" I wonder aloud, knowing he'll answer straight off.

"A trail."

"We're hiking?" I perk up a bit, tapping my sneakers together.

"Yep, five miles into the forest. And don't worry, it's land we've traveled for decades. Nothing dangerous on it except for me." He pulls out a pack full of water and slings it over his shoulders. "I know you'll need it."

_Five miles?_ I don't reply; I don't make my anxiety too obvious. Because as of that number, my mind is racing in panic. Five miles of treacherous roots and loose stones, trying to twist my ankles, trip me, break my bones _again_, and otherwise take me down. This humiliating trek into the Shire better end in a mushroom pizza, or I'm suing.

We drive in silence for a while as I contemplate how to get Edward to carry me up the path.

"What are you thinking?" he asks after a minute.

"About how many cuts I'll earn on this hike. I'm up to fifty after falling over a raised root."

"Ha! Well then, it _is_ a good thing I fed yesterday. You'll have the forest coated in blood after all that. But seriously, you're going to love this place. It's perfect for beautiful weather like this."

"I'm looking forward to seeing it." He smiles, crinkling his nose, all while keeping his eyes on the road.

Wait, what am I going to do if I have to pee during this hike? Will Edward hear?  
The road ends suddenly, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small wooden marker. We park on the narrow shoulder and hop out. I stoop to fix my shoelace while Edward fetches his backpack out of the trunk. It's warm now, much warmer than I'm used to here. Even La Push had a bit of a chill to it. I take my flannel and wrap it around my waist. The trunk lid slams, and I face him, noticing a strange change in attire.

"White tank top," I say mindlessly.

"I don't take fashion critiques from the girl in a Weezer shirt. Now come on, it's this way," he says, waving me to follow him. And into the dark forest he goes, with me staring at the trail we've abandoned.

"Uh ... what about the path?" I jog to keep up with his long, slow strides.

"I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it."

"Well, that's just wonderful!"

"I won't let you get lost." He winks with a teasing smile. "But if at any time you want to stop and go home, I'm game."

"I don't think that'll be an issue. Just be patient with me, I don't fancy face-planting into bear shit or something."

"I can be patient—_if _I make a great effort." He takes my hand gently, and we stroll through the forest, feeling the slightly cool air on our backs. "Though the effort is easier with you around."

"Don't try to kiss up."

He chuckles as he takes us further into the forest, the light fading and the sound of birds filling my ears with their light, crisp songs.

The forest somehow isn't trying to murder me. The ground is mostly flat, and the saint that is Edward helps me over the one major obstacle — a fallen tree — by easily lifting me and leaping over a near eight-foot diameter tree. His skin, while I've gotten used to it, makes me shiver violently after reheating. And with one snark glance, I know right away that I just made his day.

For the most part, we walk in silence; him asking the occasional, totally random question that seems to pop in his head out of nowhere. He asks about my birthdays, my teachers, my childhood pets — and I had to admit that after killing three fish in a row, I'd given up on pets entirely.

Though owning a cat has become an attractive concept.

I look around, eyes wide. The forest surrounds us in a boundless labyrinth of ancient trees. It shifts with every breath of wind. I wonder if we'll find our way back. The more I watch it, the more everything seems to move, even the rocks. Edward, meanwhile, is perfectly at ease in the blue-green maze. He stops, digging his heels in. Something in his face says he's more terrified than I'll ever be, and I don't even know where we are.

"Are we there yet?" I tease, pretending to scowl.

"Yes. Do you see the brightness? About five feet off."

I peer into the thick forest. "I think I need new glasses for that one."

He smirks, ruffling my hair. "Maybe it's further than I thought. Your eyes are weak, even for a human."

"Maybe you should shut your face."

After another hundred yards, everything brightens, picking up a cheery yellow halo. And ahead of us, the golden rays of sunlight beckon. I pick up the pace, my eagerness growing with every step. He lets me lead now, following close behind, dragging his feet on the ground. In the ground. Leaving weird little divots in the dirt.

I hit the edge of the pool of light and breath through the last fringe of ferns with a gasp. A small, perfectly round meadow greets me warmly. I feel the wildflowers — violet, yellow, soft white — under my fingertips, the grasses reaching my knees. The sun, dancing directly above, kisses my skin. I slowly go deeper in, submerging myself in the gilded air. But no footsteps follow me, and I turn, half expecting him to be right behind me. But he isn't. He's standing right in the shadows, not even an inch from the light.

Only now do I remember Edward's somber promise — to show me exactly why vampires don't go out in sunlight.

I step toward him, my eyes alight with curiosity. He swallows hard, hands trembling, eyes and face whiter than I could have imagined. I take another step toward him, hand out, beckoning. His face melts into relief, and he reaches for me, hand stopping short of the light.

I hear him take in a deep breath, let it go, and finally, he steps out into the glow.


	14. No More Secrets

Edward approaches me slowly, his steps calculated. He's doing the kind thing; he's letting me get used to it. But ... I can't. I swallow hard, standing my ground. But nothing I've read, or seen, or believed could have prepared me for Edward in the sunlight.

He's ... _horrifying_.

His skin takes on an unnerving glimmer. Iridescent marble, with gleaming, diamond faucets with a rainbow reflection in every direction. It fits every descriptor I ever gave of his skin, from it's cold air to how pale it is, makes even more sense in this moment.  
But that doesn't distract from his hands, reaching toward mine, with little drops of blood and shining fragments of skin withering, falling silently to the grass. And from his fingertips, iridescent claws grow from the very bone — crystalline.  
Unnatural.  
My instincts scream at me, pulling my every nerve for me to run. But I can't. Because now he's reaching up.

And the claws are at his face. His hollow cheeks, gaunt to the point of emaciation, or death. I can see through his face, through his cheeks. The outline of his inner jaw and teeth makes me think of the brief glimpse at the lunch table — and how I didn't realize it went all the way back.

And they're in his skin. The entire cheek breaks off, breaking into pieces as it rains down like forgotten glitter. I can't force down the yelp from the sight of his teeth, his fangs, lion-like and deadly, totally exposed. His red eyes shine bright, and he stops a good three feet away from me, radiating ice.

And now I understand why vampires don't go out in the sunlight. I look at Edward's face, what beauty I once saw has gone completely. His mouth, his real mouth, goes back to the hinge of his jaw — like a lion, a predator. His claws curl inward, made for gripping, slashing, tearing.  
His eyes, pained and waiting, flicker around my face. Searching for something. Fear. Hostility. _Anything_.

I connect our hands finally, and his claws wrap around my suddenly tan-looking skin.

"I ... I don't scare you?" he asks weakly, slowly lifting my hand to his cheek — what remains of it — as a silent way to confirm what I see is real. I thought he felt like ice before. Now I worry my hand may stick to his skin.

"I can't answer that. Not right now. Just ..." I inch closer, examining every part of him. His exposed shoulders seem strangely sharp. The bone looks like it is protruding, almost to the point of breaking the skin. I take my hand from his cheek and trace along the veins of his upper arm, seeing the muscle itself through his skin. It looks so fragile, like sugar glass.

But I know better.

"That isn't what I figured you'd be staring at," Edward says with a slight bite in his laugh. "But I won't complain. I wouldn't want to look at me either." His throat clears.

"Please, I had difficulty doing that when you looked human." I tease, finally reaching for his hand with both of mine.

"Ouch. That's a below the belt hit to the ego." I chuckle, my finger tracing along the transparent glass of his fingers. His skin is so soft, even where it looks solid.

"How are you still so human feeling?" I press my fingers to the palm of his hand, denting the arctic flesh.

"It's because of you. You're being gentle. If you were to hit me, every bone in your hand would shatter." He raises his arm blindingly fast, fluffing the top of my hair. I jump slightly and glare at him. "You must forgive me, it's going to happen a lot more. It's way too easy to be myself with you." This time, I can see his hand move as it tucks a long lock of hair out of my eyes. "Allow me to officially reintroduce myself. Hello, Bella Swan. My name is Edward Masen II. I'm from Chicago, I'm 20 years old, and for a living, I rip the heads off mountain lions."

"A pleasure to meet you, Edward Masen." I snicker, still unable to avert my gaze from his teeth, his claws, his ... everything. He tilts his head.

"What are you thinking, Bella?"

"That I ... have no idea how to process this." I shake my head, taking a step back.

"And?"

"I'm wishing that I wasn't one second away from panic. That some part of me wasn't afraid of you. Because I know better than to be."

"...you should always be afraid of me." He says, holding his hands out. "Just look at me. As much as I wish you weren't, it's smart to be. Just like I've always said." Edward's voice cracks slightly, and he pulls his arms to himself. I let out a sigh and cup his cheek. His eyes widen, locking on mine.

"Well, I've never claimed to be smart. So, it looks like we both have an adjustment to make. Because honestly," I use both my hands to gesture to his entire body, "_this_ is still registering in my mind."

"Now imagine it being your body. I didn't get used to it until the second world war ended. And I thought puberty was supposed to be hell." We both laugh, and he looks to the sky. The meadow slowly darkens, and with the shadows returns Edward's humanity — soft crackles as the stone skin regrows where he removed it.

"Edward...?"

"We are usually nocturnal out of necessity. But it wasn't always like this, Carlisle says. Vampires used to be bold, hunting during the day, slaughtering entire villages. Because we don't need this," he holds his hand to his face. "The beauty every human seems to lock in on. As if you could _outrun_ me." He smirks, standing slowly, my chin rising to stay with his eyes. And then he's gone. Out of sight completely. I look around, head whipping. Nowhere.

"_As if you could fight me off_!" his voice soars through the air; followed by a boulder the size of my truck, crashing in a pond just outside of my line of sight, making the ground shake. I tense up, holding my knees to my chest. When he returns, sitting across from me, the sun breaks through the clouds. This is Edward, I realize, with no facade. He's never been less human than in this moment. And to any outsider, I'm a mouse locked in the jaws of a snake.

He opens his maw to speak, but I interrupt him.

"I bet you I could. Not right now, of course, but maybe if I work on my abilities, I could." His eyes narrow, iris flicking up in thought. Then they widen — and I swear his pupils almost look like a cat's — filled with what I can only assume is excitement.

"And then I wouldn't have to worry about hurting you, or scaring you, or ... or losing you." Edward chuckles softly, his skin taking a pink hue under the light. "God, I'm so selfish. You shouldn't have to even _think_ of how you could fight me. I should have just fucked off into the sunset and never returned."

"Well, I'm glad you stayed." I scoot a little closer, and he curls up into himself.

"You shouldn't be. You don't really understand the extent of the danger you're in."

"Dude, if you don't stop being so dramatic, I _will_ break my hand on your face."

" ... there's something I haven't told you. Something else that makes it difficult. I've been emphasizing how dangerous I am, and the others of my coven are, but in our case I am more lethal to you than any of them. Or any other vampire." He holds up a finger. "Adding to my selfishness and stupidity, if I may add."

"Is it related to the fact that you cling to me like a hypothermic with anxiety?"

"No." He says flatly. "And I really don't know how to explain without comparing you to food." I snort, reaching out and taking his hand in mine, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Thank you. It's amazing how much that helps."

A moment passes as he gathers his thoughts.

"You know how you can smell blood? Better than other humans can." I nod, face scrunching in disgust. "Okay, well, I can always smell it, and it's appetizing to me. Because of my diet, I've gotten a taste for animal blood, and that helps in normal cases. But you ... either your blood is made of opium and sunshine, or you're what we call a Singer."

"I'm liking these labels less and less as we go along."

"It gets worse. A Singer is a human with blood that is especially poignant. And from Carlisle's observations, it affects only one vampire. In our case, Emmett has had two Singers, and Alice _was _a Singer."

"Alice? So ... Singers become vampires?"

"No..." Edward's entire affect hardens. "Alice and some guy named Michael — he was Emmett's last Singer — are the only ones I know of who survived. And I've met hundreds. The difference between them and you is that I know you. I care what happens to you. They were just ... prey." His words hang in the air for a moment.

"Basically, if we'd met... oh, in a dark alley or something..."

"The day we met, I was tempted to pull you into an empty classroom and have my way," he grimaces, eyes gleaming with tears that threaten to fall. "But I couldn't. I couldn't hurt you, or anyone, without endangering the only family I have. I ... kept to myself. And ignored you. You were like a demon straight from my personal Hell. My thoughts were stronger than any others, and they were drenched in your blood."

He looks up at my staggered expression as I absorb his bitter memories, reading the fear and mourning in the wrinkles around his eyes, and the slouch in his shoulders.

"But I wanted to make up for that. I was an asshole, I know that, so I talked to you like it had never happened. And you ... you let me. You accepted me, even after I was so rude and inconsiderate. Slowly, I became enraptured by how you were. Your actions, your words, your expressions ... and then the air would stir, and your scent would capture me again. Then I heard Tyler's van. I can make excuses, claim that I knew Jay and I would go feral at the smell of your blood, but it would all be a lie. After one day of knowing you, one day of talking to you, and ... all I could think was ... 'God, not her'."

I feel my heart jump at his words, and I swallow the lump that's been clawing its way up for the past ten minutes. Edward breathes slowly, letting out little sobs. We stay hand-in-hand, stay by each other's side. One of us has to continue the conversation, and I volunteer softly.

"Is that why Rosalie chewed you out at the hospital?"

"She was so pissed at me for endangering our coven. For putting myself in your power. As if I needed _another_ motive to kill you!" He looks away, growling in his throat. "But it had the opposite effect. I couldn't kill you, not after that. I argued with Rose and Jay, even Emmett, who was terrified I'd slip like he did."

My fingers touch my throat.

"But you haven't." He looks at me, his eyes soft, and he nods.

"You kept your word. And your curiosity flourished. But as of now, after all we've been through ... no matter how much easier it would be, I couldn't hurt you." He shakes his head, arms crossing over his chest. "Never."

"Why...? Even if we're friends, I'm just some girl. Just another human. There are thousands of people just like me. My death wouldn't be a loss—"

"_Isabella_." Edward snaps, using my whole first name like a mute button. His face has only gotten more grave, but his eyes stay soft. His eyes stay pained. "... Bella, I would rather _die_ than hurt you. That I could, even on accident, tortures me every fucking day." He rakes his hand through his hair, his body starting to tremble. "You are the only person since I was _born_ who understands me. The only human who isn't put off by me. The thought of you laying they, white as clay, your blood on _my _hands ... to never hear you, never see your smile..." He looks at me and swallows hard. "You are ... the most important person in my life right now."

The air shifts, heating my cheeks violently. He vanishes for a solid minute, returning with his over shirt on — messy, but on. He mutters something about feeling exposed when I take his face in my hands. His eyes, glorious and terrifying, widen and meet mine. I purse my lips. "You already know how I feel. This entire situation in ... strange, and scary, and wonderful. I-I would rather have become road pizza than stay away from you. We're like ... like..."

"Two halves of a whole idiot?" He offers.

"Exactly!" I smile triumphantly. "Two halves of a whole idiot." He chuckles, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Ah, finally. A smile from the old man."

"You little shit ... hah!" Edward pulls us together, my cheek meeting his cold chest. We stand together in silence, and I feel, for the first time, like there is nothing dividing us. He sighs softly above me. "And so, the lion ... befriended the lamb."

"Such a dumb lamb."

"And a sick, masochistic lion." He squeezes me, pressing his forehead to my own. Edward rubs my back for a minute before his head perks up. "Hey, can I show you something cool?"

"You mean other than your Antimorph transformation?"

"Pssh!" He pushes away, rolling his eyes. "That was just me getting the awkward part out of the way. This is actually just for fun. I want to show _you_," he ruffles my hair, "how we get around. Naturally, that is."

I bounce on my feet. "Wolf or bat? Or smoke?" He raises a brow. "What? That's what the books say. Dracula himself turned into mist or a werewolf-like thing."

"Dracula ... doesn't exist. Other than what you saw, I can't shape-shift. No, it's more logical than that." Edward takes a knee, patting his shoulder. "We run."

I hesitate. Can you blame me? With his ability to vanish from my sight in a blink ... I puff out my cheeks and wrap my arms around his neck. He grabs my ankles, making me squeak, and crosses them in front of his stomach. I try to ignore the frost of his skin and nod.

"Isabella Swan, professional backpack, ready for go!"

"You better be a professional, or you're gonna be gone. Take a deep breath!" Edward lets out a whoop and bolts forward. Bolts, however, isn't exactly accurate. He goes like a _shot_ from a military rifle. The meadow vanishes, and we're racing along the green lake around us. The trees get close, too close for comfort, narrowly missing Edward's face or arms every time he shifts and turns. I look behind us and down. Other than shifting leaves, there is no evidence that we have gone through. He moves silently, swiftly, like a ghost in the night.

In a whisper comes Edward's voice.

"I wish you could feel this. The complexity, the confusion that I feel. I know you try, but you can't quite understand." The words flutter by. My eyes lock on the forest ahead of us, trying to discern just where he will turn now. I'm always wrong. "My instincts tell me one thing, but my mind, my ... my heart says something different."

I open my mouth to reply. Air rips from my lungs. But I'm smiling. The air stings my eyes, and I feel my stomach be pulled from inside me, lost in the bushes, but I'm still smiling. I can't imagine a sensation more thrilling than this.

"You're bringing out the human in me." The sound of breaking wood makes me jolt, and the world rushes upward until in front of us there is nothing but sky. "And the vampire, too." My eyes gravitate down, to the bottom of the massive tree that we are locked onto, hundreds of feet in the air. I cling tighter to his shirt, hissing through my teeth.

"If you jump, I'm staking you."

"Aww, killjoy." Edward rocks his body, casually descending branch by branch. My stomach jumps with each impact. "Alright, let's get back to the car. It's getting close to dinnertime."

"Excuse me?" There's a lurch, and we're off again. This time, my eyes stay open, my head up, and the adrenaline rush pumps through. I whoop and holler with Edward, if only for a quick moment. I have to close my eyes again, my stomach about a mile behind us, but my giggles don't stop until we do.

"Ah, exhilarating, isn't it? Bella?" He looks over his shoulder, no doubt spotting a brunette koala curled up on his back. "...you've fainted, didn't you?" There's a flat humor in his voice.

"No, I'm just recovering. That was amazing, yet bad from my human body. I think I lost my glasses, though." I straighten up, reaching for my face. "Nope! Physics saved them."

"Brilliant. Do you need to lay in the back seat?" I shake my head.

"Just put me in the front passenger's I'll take a wee nap on the way home."

"Alright, let's get you cozy." He carries me to the car, whistling while opening the door. I slide off his back, wobbling along until I'm leaning back on the leather interior. Edward looks me over and slowly closes the door. His high laugh and a clap tell me his little test went well.

"Short," he says, getting in the driver's seat. "So short."

"I will end you." I hear a shift in the leather, and he snorts.

"You're as white as a ghost — no, you're as white as me!" The engine turns. "Maybe we'll get you an oxygen mask for next time."

"Next time?" The car moves, the music from the radio softer than before. I use it as my lullaby, slowly drifting off on the heated leather. Something comes into view not even two feet away. It's Edward, with his crooked smile and slight dimple. But something else is there ... something off. Something I can't quite make out.

"_Bella_," he whispers, taking my hand in his. At that moment, it clicks for me. His skin is darker, to the point of being lightly tanned, and there is more brown in his hair than normal. I'm about to joke when the last detail hits me.

His eyes ... are a beautiful, dark green.


	15. Something Human

A scream rips out of me when the whole of Edward comes in to focus. His smile falls, and his cheeks hollow out. His skin pales, and his face goes blue, cold sweat radiating from his skin. He reaches out to me, whispering my name weakly. And then he falls back, landing on an old hospital bed, the blankets and pillows soaked with sweat and dried blood. He stares beyond me, to the blank ceiling, his breathing labored, lips cracked and thin.

The scent of blood hits me across the face, and I pull my shirt over my nose. It doesn't help much, but it keeps me from keeling over in my own dream. Better than nothing.

"_Name: Edward Anthony Mason. Time of Death: 8:54 pm. Rest in Peace, sir."_ A familiar voice sends a cruel chill up my spine. He looks like a stranger at first. Hair too short; cropped together in a style unfamiliar to me. And his face is half-hidden by a white surgical mask. But those eyes, those violently red eyes, full of sorrow and pain, reveal his identity in an instant. Carlisle covers the man on the next bed with the blanket and sighs. Above his head is a sign that reads "Mercy Hospital".

He and I turn toward the sobbing at the same time.

"_Mrs. Mason, I'm so sorry..._" He doesn't move, but I do. I approach the bed labeled Elizabeth Mason slowly, meeting Edward's green eyes on an equally haggard, but older and more feminine face. Tears stream down her cheeks, her brunette curls splayed like a broken halo around her. And around her mouth, dried flakes of blood. I press my hands tighter to my face, scratching my face. God, it's almost unbearable...

"_Doctor ... please, save my son._"

"_We're doing the best we can, ma'am, but Edward is even sicker than his father is ... was._" I glance over at the bed next to her, to the man Carlisle covered. "_I am amazed he has made it this long_."

"_I know you ... can, Doctor Cullen. I don't care what it takes. Save him. I beg of you_."

A soft whimper of pain from behind pulls another sob out of me. Why am I seeing this? Wake up, Bella! I slap my bare face, not feeling anything. Until Carlisle walks through me to Edward. I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself.

"_Edward, are you awake?_"

"_My father... he's dead._" The frail young man raises his shaking hand to cover his eyes. "_Will I be soon?_"

"_I don't know. For now, just rest._"

The dream shifts. The beds holding Edward's parents are empty. The entire ward is empty. Except for one bed. If it weren't for the labored, wheezing breaths escaping his lips, I could swear the body in the bed was that of a corpse. His hair thin and flat, his bones jutting out, his eyes sunken in and dull. I kneel by his side, reaching to push his hair back. My hand goes through him.  
I'm not even here.

"_Edward._" Carlisle appears at the bedside, his hand gently pushing Edward's hair from his face. "_I'm sorry, it's time._"

"_You'll be happier once I'm gone, Doc. And so will I._" His weak laugh makes Carlisle flinch. "_But ... you've got another idea. Don't you? You've got that look in your eyes._"

"_I ..._" Carlisle visibly swallows and leans in, pressing his lips to Edward's ear. I move closer, focusing on his soft whisper. "_I'm sorry..._" There's a crack, I watch in horror as Carlisle's cheeks tear from his face, his garish teeth bared. Something leaks from his fangs. Not saliva, too dark for that, and the next thing I hear is Edward screaming. I jump back, pulled from my mind into consciousness.

I'm looking at the ceiling of my bedroom, panting as my head whips around. Muted light from the cloudy sky leaks in, illuminating the small room. I wipe the cold sweat off my face, breathing slowly so I can focus on how I got home.

Edward. It's obvious to me. I must not have woken up when he got me home. God, Charlie probably teased the poor guy all the way up the stairs. Or asked about the trip. Either way, Edward got an ear full. I must thank him soon. I sit up, wiping the tears and sweat from my face, forcing my wild hair into some form of order.

Through my blurred vision, I spot someone leaning over my bed. A warm, rough hand presses against my forehead.

"Dad?"

"I heard you screaming, are you okay?" He sits beside me, setting my glasses in my hands. "You haven't had a night terror since you were a little girl..." Charlie's brows furrow. I put on my eyes, knowing that honesty is the best policy here.

"I saw ... I saw Edward being changed. In a hospital. Old, and kind of dingy, but definitely a hospital. He was so sick ... he looked dead." Charlie presses his lips together and wraps an arm around my shoulders, squeezing gently. "My brain probably messed it up. Took what he told me yesterday and made it into a horror movie."

"I dunno, Bells. But uh," he looks at my nightstand and picks up a small, unused red journal, "here. I'm gonna go make some breakfast, I want you to write that down. And any other weird dreams. Like I said before."

"But this seems so ... juvenile." I chuckle, taking the hobby store sale item in my hand. "Like something little kids would do." I look at Charlie, who is having absolutely none of it. He takes one of my thousands of AWOL pens and almost slaps it in my hand.

"Look, weird shit has been happening to and around you since you came to Forks. First vampires, then witchcraft, and now spooky dreams. The absolute _least_ I can do as a father is to be sure you do the smart thing in every circumstance." He taps the book. "This will help you." He stands and strolls to the door.

"Wouldn't avoiding the vampires be on the top of that list?" I say to his back, sticking out my tongue. He leans against the door, a finger on his chin.

"Didn't Edward already try that?" We exchange a squint and nod. I roll out of bed, sitting at my desk right as Charlie closes the door.

"Hey, Dad!"

It opens. "Yes?"

"Thanks, for everything," I look over my shoulder and smile at him. Charlie shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hey, what kind of father would I be if I let my only child get killed by whatever bullshit lives in Forks?"

"A bad one."

I spend most of the day doing what every teenager does best - wasting my time online. Well, I say "wasting", but in truth, I scrunch up in my recliner and research the events of my dream. But other than the fact he said he's "Edward Mason II" I have little information on Edward Sr. or Elizabeth Mason. No birth dates, no death dates. Just Chicago, just _his_ name. And there is no way I'm asking how his family died.

God, for all I know, I pulled the name Elizabeth out of my ass! And his father may not be Edward Sr. It could be his grandfather, or some other relative of his. I groan and rub my face. This ... this is a lot harder than I imagined.

I pull up the Chicago census, then enter the year before Carlisle changed Edward. It gave no interesting details at first sight. I got most everything I needed from the pdf's Table of Contents - records of births and deaths, and various occupational numbers. I mentally beat myself for picking 1919. At least I'd gotten familiar with the contents of a census report.

And how utterly _useless_ they are.

I started a new search. "_Obituaries Chicago 1920"_. I scroll the ancestry scams that demanded pay to get any info and finally spot a newspaper archive. I grin wide and click. It turns into a rather basic search engine, with death themes and a small bar in the middle. Input the first and last name, the year, and then "_Mercy Hospital"_. I know it's a hunch, but I'm willing to follow it if it leads to something.

A few results pop up. Mostly variants of "Edward" and "Masen", but not in that particular order. Only two matched my personal criteria; Edward A. Masen & Edward Masen II. My heart shatters when I read the second name. I click his father's obituary, the regret churning my stomach when a hyperlink labeled "Elizabeth Masen (Bach)" shows under the Family section. And then I spot how long she and my Edward survived him by.

Barely a month. I read through the document carefully, tears threatening to break with every line. And then an image appears, in full color. A painting of a young man, auburn hair dull and thin, green eyes lifeless. His face is hollow, his lips visibly cracked, and blood stains his teeth. My hand slaps over my mouth before the sob can leave my throat. "Edward Anthony Masen II, one of four victims of an isolated Spanish Influenza cell in late 1920 Chicago. His body went missing shortly after they declared him dead."

Place of Death: Mercy Hospital, Chicago. Cause of Death: Spanish Influenza. I close my eyes and let out a slow breath.

We learned about the outbreak in an old history class. Over half a million Americans killed. And now a survivor, if I can even call him that, is someone I hold dear. His parents, it reads, were cremated to prevent another outbreak. And so was he; but I know better. Because I know the man in the photo they use. The colors are gone, but the crooked half-smile is trademark.

I pull the photo into a separate tab, my lips trembling, as my dream resurfaces, and his pain becomes my own. I open my phone and take a shot of the picture before debating if my idea is good.

I send the picture anyway, and pocket my phone right as the front door opens. I instinctively slap my laptop shut, eyes wide.

"I won't ask, just look at what I've got." Charlie sets the DVD haul on my lap and ruffles my hair. "They're pieces of shit, but I know you love that about them." I pick up _The Wizard of Gore _and grin wide.

"This is going to be amazing!"

We spend hours watching an endless stream of B-Movie gore porn, horrible acting, and garish special effects. I crunch on the popcorn, leaned in while Charlie says back in his chair, pillow clutched to his chest. He says it's for comfort, but I'm thinking something else is the problem. By the time a cheesy vampire movie comes on, he's got the pillow over his eyes.

I turn to Charlie and squint. He peaks out and winks from behind the pillow. Not a word is exchanged until the midway point of the movie.

"To think, all we know of them is probably some ploy to throw us off their trail."

" ... you mean the bats and the sunlight and stuff?"

"Yep, that's exactly what I mean. They don't die in the sun, or shape-shift, or anything like that. But this," he points to the TV, "is what most of the world believes. What better way to hide in plain sight than to lie about what you are?"

"It's a good cover," I agree, nodding my head.

We look up at the clock, and at the strike of three, we realize we have completely fucked up. Charlie turns off the television while I ascend the steps, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My dad's hand stops me half-way up.

"Don't make any plans for after school, okay?"

"Uh, sure. But why?"

"You'll see. Now, bed!"

Edward doesn't look at me until after school is over. He's been silent, shifting over during lunch so that a very confused Jasper is sitting beside me. Which wasn't as awkward as I figured it would be, since Jasper could pick up on the conversation with ease.

I walk to my truck, thinking that maybe Edward is just having a day, and he is already sitting in the passenger seat of my car.

"You found me," he says, taking my bag from me and setting it between us. "With as little as you know, you found me. I'm honestly impressed." He pulls out his phone and opens the picture. "I remember when this was taken. I'd just turned twenty and had gotten another denial for joining the army. My health was never the best. Think ... pre-super soldier Steve Rogers."

"Skinny and sick." I put the truck in reverse and start the slow ride home. "They won't take soldiers even now with a lot of medical difficulties. Or even glasses."

"That's a touch overboard. But, essentially, yes. My asthma alone forbade me, and at the time, I was a nationalist. I wanted to fight in the war - War to End All Wars, we were told. Getting sick right after becoming an adult was so ... for decades, I wished Carlisle had let me die." I reach out to squeeze Edward's shoulder. "Ten-and-two_, __ma belle__."_

"Let me be nice to you, dammit." Instead, I flick his nose and return my hand to the wheel. " ... I hope I didn't cross any boundaries. I just couldn't bring myself to ask."

"I appreciate that. It isn't an easy subject. But none of our human lives are. So, do you want to hang out today? I was thinking we could, uh ..."

"Not to interrupt, but my dad made plans for us. We could hang out tomorrow, though. Before school. I could help you study for that Trig test on Wednesday, perhaps. How many years have you taken that class again?" Edward's eyes narrow.

"I am not a mathematician."

"You've been in school since before my dad was alive."

"Doesn't mean I give a damn about numbers."

I slow down to enter the driveway, my dad's cruiser ready and waiting, with Charlie chilling in the front seat. "I guess I'll be seeing ... wow, rude." The seat beside me is empty, a chill from Edward's silent escape hitting the side of my head.

Charlie honks his horn, and I transition from driver to passenger with ease.

"Got any homework?"

"A few math problems, but it isn't much. So, what's the big surprise?"

"Now, patience is key here, Isabella Marie." He backs out the drive and starts heading west. The world around us drifts leisurely. Like we don't have a care in the world. Charlie hums along to the song on the radio, waves to the occasional passerby. I can't help but focus on the gun strapped to his side - and his total lack of uniform.

We definitely look related now, even if it weren't already obvious. Flannels, both different shades of green, thermal undershirts, and worn blue jeans. He turns toward La Push, his humming turned into full-on singing that ... I haven't heard in a decade or more. It's warm, like melted chocolate, and comforting. There's a twinkle in his eyes, and without a signal to warn me, he turns off the road, and down a barely visible hollow. I brace myself in the seat, my glasses bouncing down my nose with every bump of the "road". I look at Charlie, eyes wide, but he does nothing but continue the ballad of Big Iron.

"You don't normally play the quiet game, Dad. Where are we going?"

"My old hunting ground." I don't have time to ask before the answer appears in front of me. A cabin, straight from a Grimm's tale, emerges from the hillside. As if growing from the ground itself. Ferns and moss cover the roof and the siding, the windows are stained glass, and they glisten in the angled sunlight. "I spent every summer here as a kid, with my grandmother, Bellamy Swan." He puts the cruiser in park and exits the vehicle.

"You never really ... talked about her." I say, walking beside him, looking at every little thing around us. A well, covered in violet blooms, beckons me closer.

"I didn't have to. You grew up with her for a while. She didn't die until you turned 6. She would braid flowers into your hair while singing to you, make little charms for you to wear. My old man didn't like her being around — but the joke's on him. He died before she did." Charlie chuckles sharply at that, and opens the door.

It doesn't smell like my long-dead great-grandmother left it abandoned. It's clean. There are books — so many books! — all along the walls. Leather spines, worn and well-read. Crystals hang from the ceiling, creating rainbows on the walls, shapes on the ceiling. To the right is a bed — clean and made, but unused. To the right, a desk covered in open journals and glass flasks. And ... Charlie's coffee mug.

"Are you really the police chief, Dad?" I ask jokingly, my hands wandering around the shelves. "Or do you just steal away here every day?"

"I do my job, more or less. Not much crime to stop here, and we train the citizens in self-protection. The Forks PD is more or less for appearances. Why do you think there's only one cruiser?" Charlie smirks, picking up a couple books from his desk. "You been reading that mind magic book you got from Port Angeles?"

"M-more or less..." I look over to the side, avoiding his scrutinizing gaze.

"Well, at least I have. I can tell you one thing; it won't help you much. You read, you read, and you learn almost nothing without a little practice. And incentive. All of which I have experience in." He takes one of the old books in his hands and opens it up. "I remember watching Bellamy write this passage ... 'she shows promise. Shows the spirit of a fae in the body of a human girl. Isabella Swan. Our legacy will live on'."

I wipe my eye, wishing I could conjure up memories of this woman who makes Charlie's face soften and de-age to his childhood. But I have Charlie. And ... a book flying at my _face?_

I yelp, hand raising to knock it back. I feel the current surge through my body, out my fingers. And the book launches back. "Dad!" He catches it, a brow raised. "Did you just...?"

"Throw a book at my daughter, knowing she'd be able to stop it unconsciously? Yes, yes I did. C'mon. I won't have you breaking any of my grandmother's belongings. I know you."

He takes us outside, to the back of the house, where a clearing that rivals the beauty of Edward's meadow stretches out. Charlie takes off his flannel and tosses it aside. His undershirt isn't what I first thought — it's a tank-top, and it shows decades worth of scars that no doubt come from something inhuman and unnatural. I shiver, holding myself close.

"So, what, you're just gonna keep throwing things at me?" Charlie shakes his head, leaning against a tree with one finger on a page in his chosen weapon - great-gramma Bellamy's journal.

"You've got a natural knack for your shield. But if it is manifesting out of panic, then control is something you need to master quickly before you launch a classmate out the window because they poked your unsuspecting shoulder. First off, _relax your body, _Bells." He clenches his fist, arms crossing over his abdomen — _does he have any scars there?_ — his entire torso tensing with the action. "If you hold pressure anywhere in your body or mind, it will influence your performance. In life and in magic. Breathe slowly. It's a basic grounding exercise."

I mirror him, breathing in for ten seconds, and out for ten. Slowly, he opens his arms up, fingers splaying, palms out. I follow his pose, the crackling in my mind spreading out to my fingers - tickling rather than surging. I can see the air around my fingers warp slightly. It isn't electric anymore...I see a halo around my hands, my arms. My hands break up in the air when I move them, leaving a shadow of themselves in the air.

I look up at my dad, eyes wide and mouth agape. Charlie smiles at me and nods.

"Feels nice to have your guard down, doesn't it?" His tone doesn't match the flow of his question. Because he doesn't need an answer. He knows. He's been here. "Alright, now the real fun begins. Tell me what it feels like to send your shield out."

My eyes flicker to my hands, to Charlie, and to the strange aura around me. Can he even see it? Is it obvious that it's there? I try to touch it, and am met with air, and my skin. It isn't like the panicked ripping, it's like ... like ...

"Like I'm enveloped in warmth. It doesn't hurt like it did before." Charlie nods, taking a pen from his pocket.

"Is it different from the first time? The uh ... electric feeling you described from the ... that _day_. Is it like that?"

"Not even a little bit." I watch him scratch something down in the book, curiosity piqued.

"Alright. Focus on some part of your body. Your hands might be easiest, but it can be your foot for all I care. And try to send the shield forward. Be confident, but go slow. I don't wanna go flying into the forest any time soon."

I chuckle, hands trembling from the very idea that I could hurt him so badly without ever meaning to. He's right, I have to control this. Is ... is this what Edward always feels like? I hold my right hand out, palm facing Charlie, and breathe out. At first, nothing happens. The weird aura stays in place, creating a holograph around my pale fingers. And then, like a turtle in first place, a prism of light moves away from my hand. It shimmers in the air, tentatively exploring the coolness and light.

"Bells? Anything?"

"Yeah, there's something." I let out a relieved laugh, and _jolt_. The prism flashes forward without my intent behind it. Thankfully, it doesn't go far. But it dances in plain sight, leaving Charlie staring at the space between us with wide, shocked eyes. "Ah, um, ehe ... sorry about that."

"Don't be! That was amazing! A good sign," he writes in the book again, flipping to another page. "You really are a natural. Okay. I'm going to throw something at you — don't you dare say a word on that — but it'll be underhand and very easy. If you can block that, I'll consider this a good day."

I take a step back, keeping my hand out, the prism around my fingertips. He picks up a stone, tossing it absently up and down, his eyes setting on me with a hardness I don't recognize. No, not hardness. His eyes aren't cold. He's focused, but relaxed. Like father, like daughter, I mimic Charlie's posture and watch as the stone leaves his hand, soaring up in the air, directly at my face.

My eyes follow the rock, the hair on the back of my neck rising. I breathe out slowly, and tell energy around my hand to stay firm, to stay solid. I watch the rock head directly for my hand, and a part of me says to cringe down and wait for impact. But I stare head on at it, watching as it reaches my hand, wholly expecting it to at least cut my palm.

It bounces off the aura around my hand, hitting the grass softly and harmlessly. I gawk, looking at the rock with a whooping laugh.

"Yes!" I thrust my fist into the air, jumping excitedly. Charlie applauds from across the way for a bit. Then he kicks a stone up with his toe, catches it, and lobs it at my head. I raise both hands, sending the rock forward and into the ground. "Seriously?"

"Gotta be prepared for anything. At least I'm using my arm, not a slingshot." He tosses a rock straight up, and throws it in my general direction. Oh God, he didn't aim! I bounce on my toes, praying it falls far away from where I am. Then a stone strikes me on the stomach, making me cough out, and I glare at Charlie — who is looking rather innocent for a rock-throwing douchebag — when the first rock hits the ground beside me.

"Prepared for anything," I croak out, straightening myself up. "Got it."

"Think fast, act fast." He picks up three rocks and pulls back. "Ready?"

"Ready!" He throws them all at different heights and speeds. I pick the ones to prioritize, and lurch forward to bat them away with my handy-dandy shield. One goes straight down, the other flings into the woods. The third, well ... it flings right at Charlie. Who catches it.

Watch out; we've got a badass over here.

"I'd say 'sorry', but like, I'm really not."

"Yeah, I've been there before. At least you can get away with physically assaulting your father." Charlie winks playfully and picks up his flannel. He wraps it around his waist and loads up on stones. "Nothing says family bonding like a rock fight."

I lose track of time quickly with this little exercise. It becomes a rhythm of being threatened by various sized rocks and batting them away with my hands. It's exhilarating. Even when I lose my balance, I can keep my face from being hit, or my stomach, or leg. It's like I'm untouchable.

I step forward and raise my hands in the air. I'm not the one who gives up.

"Alright, I'm done," Charlie says, panting. "You've officially exhausted me, Bells. I'm gonna get some water, and maybe an ice pack for my bicep. Goddamn..." I cover my mouth to hide the snickering from him, his right hand offering the single-finger salute as he vanishes into the cottage.

I go to follow him, but an off shade of green catches my eyes. How typical. His shirt must've fallen off his waist during the exercise. I trudge over and swipe it from the grass, clicking my tongue. I open my mouth to yell for him, waving the shirt in the air.

A familiar chill fills the air, and I turn my head to my left. A flash of blue and gold rushes at me, and I turn, hand now out, toward it. Two voices cry out - my own, and the bright streak.

I did it. I pushed it back. Whatever it is! And it pushed me. My hand, my _arm,_ cracks from the pressure. I growl and curse, instinctively grabbing my wounded arm. God, I think it's broken. I look for Charlie, white hot tears racing down my eyes.

"_ Fuck!_" A deep, hypnotic, and ... and familiar voice rips through the air.

Long, icy blonde hair braided tight. An angular face, sharp and high, with a regal bearing that only Carlisle's can best. He rises, towering over me, with broad shoulders, and a glare that would kill if it could. The vampire hisses, black eyes taking me in.

Dad, where are you?

"Well, that was unexpected. But welcome." He grins, eyes softening as he watches me. "Hello, little girl." From behind me, I hear Charlie pull the hammer back on his pistol, and the vampire laughs. "Oh, come on. You really think that little popgun will hurt me? Go on, be a man. Right here." He parts his arms, blue shirt falling open to expose a smooth, milky white chest. "In the heart"

Charlie grips the back of my shirt tight, grits his teeth, and pulls the trigger.

A hole opens up in the vampire's chest, blood pouring down his crystalline flesh. Even the bone shimmers in the filtered sunlight. He looks down at this gaping maw in his body, hands trembling and mouth falling open.

"You're not the first vampire I've had to put down. And I doubt you'll be the last. You and your friends are out of warnings." Charlie pulls the hammer back again, stepping toward the vampire with the steadiness of a soldier. The vampire snarls, backing away from Charlie, all the while his wound slowly heals.

Charlie pulls the trigger again, but the vampire is gone from sight. The bullet — which is apparently made of adamantium — crashes into the grass where the vampire used to be, creating a deep divot in the ground. A frozen hand grips my jaw, an arm slithers around my lower back, and I gasp when my body is thrust against his chest.

"N-no ... get back!" I squeeze my eyes closed, pulling myself away from him. My hands crackle with effort, lines of light dancing around. I can't focus, I can't ... he's too close, too ...

"You human girls get prettier and prettier as I get older. And smell even sweeter." I peak at him, at his beautiful, curious expression. He trails a finger down my arm, to where the bones have shattered, and chuckles. "You've got more to you than I thought. This will be fun, I think." My back meets the ground, and I stare as he vanishes into the air with a crack of sound.

"Bella!" Charlie rushes to my side, cradling my torso and arm. "Jesus Christ, he was faster than I thought. Are you hurt? Dumb question, Charles... okay, let's get you to the doctor." He picks me up with ease, rushing to the cruiser and speeding off at a rate that would get a normal person pulled over or dead in a minute.

We rush through the town while I hold my throbbing arm to my chest, whimpering as I try to focus on ... on something else. Anything to push the pain into the back of my brain. In a few minutes, we pass over the Calawah River, headed north, with houses growing bigger and farther apart from each other. Charlie twists to an unpaved road, barely visible and unmarked, save a larger gap between the walls of encroaching, ancient trees.

"Uh ... the doctor's office isn't this way, Dad."

"We're going to Doctor Cullen. The Coven needs to know what's going on. The nomads we've been tracking down are in Forks. We can't risk a slaughter, not with one as fast as _blondie _back there hanging around."

We break into a clearing, full of wildflowers and vines decorating the sparse trees that are visible. We park under an arch made of branches and roses, and Charlie guides me up the gravel driveway. What I see takes my breath away.


	16. A Clean Break

A house reaches out from the ground, covered in moss, vines, and flowers, with a deep porch that encircles the entire first floor. It's an amalgam of both my expectations and what I never would have imagined. Definitely a century or more old, Victorian in style perhaps at the base of the house. But there are additions, the top two floors no doubt being the biggest, that come straight of the modern era. Smoke rises from a brick chimney, and I can only take that as a sign that at least someone is home.

With the average age of a vampire being Old-As-Shit, any of them should be able to set my arm.

We exit the car, my ears pricking at the sound of a nearby stream. Charlie takes my good hand and we start up the walkway, surrounded by well cared for wildflowers.

"Wow..."

"Yeah, that's about what I said when I first came here."

"It's amazing!" I gawk, keeping my pulsing hand close to my chest. He chuckles.

"C'mon, before someone rushes us." Charlie stops at the door and moves to knock. It slides open to my surprise, Alice Brandon greeting us with wide eyes. "Told ya."

"Oh my God, Bella! I'll get Carlisle, get in here. Emmett, I told you someone got hurt!" She's gone before her sentence finishes, so we let ourselves in.

It's even more spectacular than the exterior. It's bright, open, with books and papers scattered across various surfaces. The seating varies vastly, from truly antique fainting couches to a La-Z-Boy that Charlie no doubt envies. And in the center, a sunken-in meeting place with two half-moon couches and a fire pit. But nothing seems extravagant. Yeah, a little cluttered — I haven't seen so many knickknacks in one space — but it looks collected. And the artwork isn't anything I've seen before. Beautiful, flowing abstracts and florals in bright colors. And the furniture is original vintage, judging by the wear-and-tear, or from an Ikea catalogue.

On the far wall, just beyond a small kitchen, is a massive wall made of glass melting the forest into the interior of the house, creating the illusion of being in the trees. Along the top of the walls, fairy lights gleam, lanterns hang, and photographs dance in the light air conditioning breeze. This place ... it must look like a dream at night.

A pair appear from the corner of my eye, and my breath is caught. I've seen Carlisle Cullen before, both in person and in dreams, but his youth continues to strike me. He's relaxed, clothing loose and body language hanging. His blonde waves kiss his shoulders, and his lips kiss the cheek of the beautiful woman beside him. She must be Esme. Her face is older than his, with a divine grace that only an angel could possess. Her skin, dark as night, contrasts with the paleness of Carlisle to a near extreme. On her clothes and face, various colors of paint. And if it's in her hair, I can't tell. The braids tight on her scalp are in every shade of the rainbow.

Carlisle's face, unlike Esme's warm grin, has become severe.

"Isabella, this is unprecedented. What happened?" I bite my lip and look at Charlie, who has tensed visibly. Carlisle looks between the two of us and shakes his head. "Ah well, we'll take care of this, and then discuss the details. Come along, Ms. Swan. My beloved can keep Charlie under control."

Esme giggles. Her voice is light, like wind-chimes. "Of course, darling. It's good to meet you, Bella." Carlisle taps my good hand and nods for me to follow, and we leave the warmth of the family room, and tuck away into a little infirmary hidden just under the stairway. He closes the door and crosses his arms.

"I know Edward said you were clumsy, but if Charlie brought you here, well, I could only assume the worst." His accent grows thicker with every word. He takes down a kit from an upper cabinet — the entire room full of antique and modern medical equipment — and sets it on the worn pine desk. "But at least he isn't here right now ... he would be in a panic if he saw you injured."

"He uh ... he really worries about me," I chuckle, looking at the freckles growing on my hand.

"Aye, that he does. Now, let me just..." He takes the injured hand and I wince, every little touch feeling like needles under my skin. Carlisle offers a sympathetic chirp, and lightens his grip. "I have bad news. It is definitely broken. 20 of the bones are damaged to a severe extent. Good news, it isn't your dominant hand, so schoolwork will be normal. And I can prescribe painkillers."

"How is it I'm never hurt enough to miss school?" He snorts and lets out a soft laugh, but as he starts setting my hand, his face falls into sorrow. And fear. "Is something wrong?"

"... what you and Edward are doing concerns me. It's not that I don't trust you, or him, I just ... being close to humans is always a risk we take. And this level of closeness is unheard of in any vampiric circle. I just want to be sure you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I do. I hurt myself learning how to fight — or, well, not fight. It's weird ..." I glance around, avoiding his rather fatherly stare. "My dad can explain it better than me."

"I see ... well, so long as you keep this hand immobile, and in the brace, you'll be good to go." He turns and grabs a very new bottle of pills. "A single 800 milligram ibuprofen, until I can write you a script." He places a large, white pill in my hand and gives me a metal bottle of water. I swallow it, the aftertaste making me shiver.

"Thank you, Doctor Cullen."

"Carlisle, please."

"Bella." Carlisle smiles and bows his head slightly.

"And Bella you shall be."

We emerge from the office when a crash and a curse fly from the kitchen.

"Bloody Hell!" Carlisle turns and flashes around the small dividing wall. I approach the wall and peak around. An argument catches my attention, and I snicker.

"Is she even French?" Rosalie, whose hair seems more pink than blonde in this lighting, asks Emmett, a bowl of salad in her hands. She thunks it on the marble island, pulling her hair back into a bun.

"Her name is _Bella, _after all," Emmett rationalizes, shrugging his shoulders. He cuts up what seems to be chicken with ease, his dreadlocks pulled back into a high ponytail. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder, Charlie's amused face just above mine. Emmett looks up in time to see our eyes just staring at him. "Oh, look Rose, humans."

"Get in here, you two, before he drops another pan." Rosalie calls us over, fully acknowledging me for the first time since we met a few months ago. Charlie races forward first, standing beside Emmett to get a closer look. I follow slowly, standing away from the cooking space.

Sharp objects and vampires? I'm not risking it.

"Gordon Ramsay here is making a chicken cordon bleu recipe he picked up in culinary school. I hope you're hungry." Rosalie smiles, a little forced, feeling the same awkward tension as me. I clear my throat, not knowing how to make my dietary needs known to them. It would be rude if I just ... said I didn't want it. The air shifts around me, and I turn in time for Jasper to make his debut appearance in the kitchen. He looks down at me and smiles.

"Well, hello again. Have we, uh, have we had a proper introduction?" He taps his lip, thinking.

"If by that you mean I know your name, and you know mine, then yes." I say shrugging my shoulders. Jasper shakes his head slightly, and then nods in agreement.

"That is a valid point. Still, good to see you're in once piece. I've been placing bets against Malice to see if you'll keep breathing, and so far, I have lost quite a bit of dignity." He leans down and stage-whispers, "pequeña diabla makes me be her sewing dummy. Beware bets with Alice Brandon." Jasper's head perks up, and every vampire looks toward a set of stairs. "When did Edward get home?"

Music, lighter and more beautiful than I have ever heard, fills my ears.

Rosalie's smile becomes beautifully genuine, and she leans against the wall. "He's playing again."

"God, I missed that." Emmett hums along with the song, Jasper joining in with the harmony. Eventually, their small musical number turns into talking about the meal, but the music itself continues on.

While the others chatter, I follow the sound around the wall and down a hallway, to a small door hidden beside the massive bookshelves. Sure enough, there's Edward, his upper body rocking slightly. His eyes are closed as they dance effortlessly on the baby grand piano, and from his lips, a voice to entrance.

"Ne me quitte pas," a breath, "Il faut oublier. Tout peut s'oublier. Qui s'enfuit déjà. Oublier le temps." I shouldn't want him like this. I'm intruding, I'm violating his privacy. If there's even a slight chance he doesn't know I'm here... a large hand lies on my shoulder right as the music shifts. Carlisle leans down and whispers.

"He wrote this for you." He gestures to a couch on the far wall before pushing me in gently, closing the door at my back. Injured hand on my chest, I lay across the couch, my eyes closed, and listen to the song ... to my song ... closely.

The air shifts around me, warming. It caresses my cheeks and flows through my hair. I'm enveloped in the soft sounds of the piano, and the sweet emotions that echo through the music. After a few minutes, the music stops completely. I open my eyes and smile up at Edward, who is standing over me in shock, hands shaking.

"Bella ... I uh ... do you like it?" I nod, sitting up and patting the space beside me. "I shouldn't, Carlisle said that Charlie needs to speak with us... about that." He points to my hand, eyes pained for me. Still, he sits, and he takes my good hand in his. "... they like you, you know. Esme and Alice especially. Jasper is warming up to you, though. He's not much of a talker."

"I can tell. Do you know where in the house they are?"

He closes his eyes and nods. "Kitchen still, all of them. Your dad is helping Emmett make dinner. Oh," Edward snorts, "he just told Em about your diet. Poor sod was so excited to see you try the chicken. We shouldn't keep them waiting much longer."

"What do they all uh ... think of me?" I squeeze his hand, my lips pursing. "I know you said they like me, but ... I don't know."

"Alice adores you, but she's known of you for a while now. She saw Charlie deciding to fix up your bedroom, because you moved in, and she proudly announced the opportunity for a new friend."

"That's kinda cute." Edward shakes his head.

"Except Alice has a hard time understanding limits. There is a lot about our potential future that I'd be better off not having shoved into my brain at 3 in the morning." I laugh, not really paying attention to the slight bit of pink on his cheeks. "As for the other three, Rosalie thinks you're very sweet, and Emmett likens you to a Hobbit. Jasper is ... anxious, but he's been on our diet for the shortest amount of time, only a few decades."

"Esme and Carlisle?" His face lights up.

"Esme wouldn't care if you had a third eye and webbed feet. She's happy to see me talking to someone that isn't one of us. Happy to see me so ..." He chokes on his words, and scrambles to form a sentence. He's honestly adorable when he's flustered, I just wish he'd clue me in to what's on his mind. "And Carlisle, being the old bastard he is, threw a box of condoms at me when I mentioned the trip to Port Angeles."

I snort, cackling and falling against Edward's arm. He rolls his eyes, mockingly mimicking my laugh until he pushes me onto my side.

"Alright, alright, let's go see the others before you pee yourself." We stand, and I instantly go over to a collection of photographs and cameras on the wall. "Typical ..." He stands behind me, leaning down and resting his chin on the top of my head. "Not what you expected, is it?"

"Not exactly."

"No coffins, no piled skulls in the corner. I don't think we even have cobwebs. What a disappointment this must be for you," he continues, sarcasm leaking into his tone.

I ignore his teasing, only acknowledging it with a roll of my eyes. "I expected either stereotypical or completely against the grain. This house feels so eclectic and alive."

He sighs. "It's the one place we never have to hide."

The song I heard him playing, my song, drifts in the back of my mind. The final chords, a more melancholy key, the last note hovered poignantly. I feel tears in my eyes, and I dab at them, meeting Edward's now concerned gaze with a smile.

"Sorry, that song you wrote is still playing in my head. It's beautiful."

"Thank you..." He murmurs, embarrassed. He touches the corner of my eye, trapping one I missed, and wipes it on his shirt. He bounces on his heels, considering something, and then grins. "Do you want to see the rest of the house? It'll be super quick, I promise."

"No coffins?" I verify, the humor in my voice not entirely masking the happiness. He takes my hand, leading me away from the cameras.

"No coffins," he promises, holding up crossed fingers.

We sneak around the kitchen, heading up the main staircase with light steps. I've no doubt that the others know we're there, but Charlie doesn't, and we can enjoy a bit of time alone before Charlie drops the atomic bomb on our peace. I slide my hand along the satin-smooth railing, taking in the warm honey-colored wood of the flooring.

"Jasper's room... Carlisle's study... Alice's room..." He points as we go past the various doors. He turns to go to the right at the end of the hall, but I stop in place, eyes locked on a massive ornament. My hand rises automatically, one finger extended to touch the large, wooden cross.

Edward's gentle grip on my wrist holds me back.

"Don't ... it's older than anyone in this house. It belonged to Carlisle's father. Carved it for his church 400 years ago."

"400 years ..."

"It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached. Carlisle saved it before the church collapsed from age about fifty years ago."

I gaze at the simple, ancient cross. I quickly do the math — and jolt from shock. The silence stretches on as I struggle to wrap my mind around the concept of so many years ... and one man who lived through them all.

"Bella? You alright?" He taps the top of my head.

"How old is Carlisle?" I ask quietly, ignoring his question, still staring up.

"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday," Edward says. I look at him, a million questions in my eyes. He watches me carefully as he speaks. "Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties. Or so he thinks. Time wasn't marked as accurately for the common people. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though."

I stay composed, aware of his scrutiny as I listen. It's honestly easier if I pretend, at least for now, that Edward is telling me a fairy tale.

"He was the only son of a Protestant pastor, an intolerant man. Pastor Cullen was ... enthusiastic in his persecution of Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves, vampires. They killed a lot of innocent people — there are nights I can hear Carlisle begging for their forgiveness in his sleep. Pastor Cullen forced Carlisle to murder even as a child. Once he took over, they happened less and less often. But then he found an actual vampire in the sewers."

He drifts to near silence, and my skin chills close to ice.

"They must have been ancient and weak with hunger. Carlisle was young, just turned 23, strong and sturdy. He could have overpowered them, had he been fully aware. He says he remembers falling over a corpse, and then the pain of the vampire's fangs in his neck. And the venom in his blood." He pauses, editing. Honestly, I don't want to know what.

"He crawled away from the alley while a mob followed the fiend. Carlisle's father had taught the town what to do with anyone infected — they would have burned him alive. He hid in a cellar, buried himself in rotting produce for three days. It's a miracle he was able to keep silent. He realized he had become what he feared the most."

I let out a soft breath, my hands going over my mouth. The change, it must have impacted Carlisle's entire view of the world, of himself.

"So, he believes he is a monster? Wholly evil?" I ask, my voice cracking.

"Not anymore." He leaves it at that, squeezing my shoulder I nod, wanting only to find Carlisle and hug him tight. It won't fix anything, but it's the best I can do. Edward boops my nose. "Let's get back to the others. Charlie has been eating his thoughts since he got here. Whatever caused this," he points to my arm, "must've been big."

"And fast ..." He squints at me and opens his mouth when —

"Edward, Bella, first floor; _now_." Charlie's voice comes out of nowhere. I yelp loudly, falling against Edward's side. He laughs, pushing me up.

"Intercom_, __ma belle_. We've had one for a while. C'mon, I know where they're at." We turn on our toes and go back down the stairs, Edward with an impressive pace of leaping all the way down and waiting for me with a smirk. The temptation to slap him silly arises, but a throb in my left hand tells me I'm smarter than that.

Everyone is in the living room, the couples paired off on the couch, my dad pacing in front of the fireplace, and Alice chatting with Jasper about something in her sketchbook. She catches sight of me and shoots up.

"You're okay! Good. And here Edward had already decided to — "

"Zip it, Malice!" He snaps, leading me to where Charlie waits expectantly. "Your panicked thoughts have me on edge, Chief Swan." Edward admits softly.

"Well, Jasper's helped a bit. I feel like I just got done with some good reefer. But still" Charlie takes my good hand and nods for me to stand beside him, "things have changed. Greatly. Sit down, you're going to want to." Edward nods stiffly and takes up the last bit of free seating — an ottoman in front of Jasper's recliner.

" ... I already don't like this." I say, lips pursing.

"Just rip the bandage off, y'all." Emmett says with his big, goofy grin. "I'm already heartbroken that Bella won't be able to taste my amazing cooking." Rosalie swats his arm.

"I uh ... I was attacked. By a vampire." The room grows still. Edward's eyes lock on me, on my arm, and he looks at Carlisle. His shoulders relax. No doubt Carlisle told him it wasn't a bite, or that the damage isn't so bad, but his eyes stay huge. Stay angry. "Dad and I were working on my powers and he just ... come from nowhere."

"It's the one that killed those two workers in Mason county, Carlisle. He and his pack are getting closer to town, and aren't backing down like we thought." Charlie wraps an arm around my shoulder and squeezes. "I wasted a diamond on him, but the bastard set his sights on Bella straight away. If he's like Alice has been saying, I don't think he'll back down."

"The hunter?" Alice asks, blinking. "I hadn't seen him come to Forks. Where were you when he attacked?"

"My grandmother's cabin, between Forks and La Push. They haven't bothered the Quileute yet, but I don't think we should take the risk. We need to draw them out, and get rid of them before someone gets killed, or worse."

"_Turned_." Jasper says flatly, his hand rising to his neck. "I'll need a couple days, but I can devise a trap, no problem. The only trick will be to keep you away from it, Charlie. If he's got his sights on Bella, then he will need her scent. But yours will keep him and the others in the forest."

"I'm not letting you use my baby as bait!" Charlie looks at Carlisle, who doesn't make a move. "Carlisle, talk to that boy of yours."

"Jasper knows what he's talking about, Charlie. I agree that the situation isn't ... _ideal_, but we have to remember this isn't our choice to make. For now, we'll keep Bella here, with us. We have plenty of room, and our scent will block hers."

Charlie turns to Edward. "Talk some sense into them, please. I want to keep her safe."

"Dad," I pull away from him and look at the chorus of red eyes. "I want to help. I'm okay, I got away. The next girl might not be so lucky. He seems to like them ... young." My stomach churns, remembering the scent of his breath, the feel of his hands on me. "I'll do whatever it takes to stop him. Like Dad said, it isn't the first time a Swan had to put down a rogue vampire."

"Ooh, we got a badass over here." Another slap for Emmett.

"We'll go home, I'll pack up a couple bags and I'll go to school with the Cullens for a while," I smile up at Charlie and hug him tight. "I'll call every night, and every morning. We just have to put on a show for Mom, and things will be okay. I promise."

"Bells, I don't..."

"Do you trust me?" I ask, not daring to look up. He lets out a shaky breath.

"Okay ... okay. But Emmett is driving."

"Team Emmett!"

The drive back from my house is long and tedious. I sit in the front seat of Emmett's personal vehicle — a silver Jeep, an old model, with a cassette player instead of CD — legs curled to my chest. Edward tried to come with us, but Carlisle found him something else to do at the last second — making me a bedroom.

Never did I think I would stay in a house full of vampires. But until a month ago, I didn't think they existed. Imagine what I'll know exists by the time prom hits. God, have I only been here since January?

"Penny for your thoughts, Bella?" Emmett says, turning onto the off-road.

"I just ... feel guilty is all. I guess."

"You guess? Guilt is a pretty heavy feeling, darlin'. If you need to hash some things out, I'm all ears. An unbiased third party is always best for getting emotions off your chest, and I've spent less time with you than Edward has."

" ... it just ... because of me, so much is changing. My dad is thinking daily about my death, Edward is no doubt panicking, thinking the worst, and my friends at school are going to be giving me the third degree about coming to school with you guys tomorrow." I press my forehead to my knees and sigh. "I'm not ... worth all this trouble."

"Now hold up. First of all, I never wanna hear that come from your mouth again. Understood?" I hesitate, but I nod. "Not very earnest, but I'll take it. Secondly, none of us would be doing this if we didn't think you were important. Bella, you're practically family at this point. I'm pretty sure Edward would never recover if something happened to you. I've never seen him so in ..." He swerves and looks behind us. "A goddamned squirrel came outta nowhere..."

We pull into the driveway, Edward and Esme waiting for us on the porch.

"I'll take these to your room, Bella." Emmett says, grabbing my backpack and suitcase.

"I can get ..." and off he goes, "...them. Thank you, Emmett!" I approach the giggling woman on the porch, shaking my head. "Is he always like this?"

"You get used to it," Edward chimes in, shaking his head. "How's your arm feeling?"

"Like it was shattered by Dracula himself." Twin deadpan expressions make me glow with pride. "You're welcome."

"Alright," Esme pecks Edward's cheek, and then mine, sending a shock of cold through my skin, "I'm off to bed. Remember, you have school tomorrow. All homework should be done by midnight, and snacks are always available in the kitchen."

"She came up with these on the fly, just so we're clear on that. Normally, the only rule is not to knock on their door when there's a sock on the handle." Esme smacks the back of Edward's cackling head before vanishing into the house. "C'mon, I'll show you to your room."


	17. The Calm Before

"I need to be there to intercept Chief Swan and the investigation." Carlisle shakes his head and brushes a stray lock of hair from his face. "The sooner we get rid of them, the better. Have a good night, Bella."

"Best of luck, Carlisle." Edward says somberly, a trembling hand at my good wrist. The good doctor nods and flashes away, his vehicle starting out in the distance. I slide my hand to Edward's fingers and lace them. "What are you thinking?"

"I want to hear the rest of it. Please." He nods and gestures to the paintings.

"His entire life is documented here. After decades of hiding from humans, of trying to kill himself, of a fear of burning in Hell for murder before his soul was — in his mind — condemned, he just kept on walking. Kept on hiding. And then his willpower snapped, right as an unfortunate herd of deer fell into his sight." He lays his hand over a small landscape, the shadows on the ground showing the shape of unseen shapes — deer? "And so, he started the philosophy we all follow. He fed on animals and became a doctor to repay the world for what he had stolen for so long.

Edward sighs, leaning against the wall. His face is somber, his eyes downcast. I squeeze his hand and speak softly.

"Is ... is something wrong?"

"I'm still anticipating it. For something is going to be too much, and you'll run away. Screaming as you go." He gives half a smile, but his eyes stay serious. "I won't stop you when it happens. As much as I want to be wi ... around you, I'll completely understand if you don't want to be around me..." He trails off, staring at my face. Waiting.

"I'm not running anywhere," I stay, crossing my arms.

"We'll see..."

I nudge him. "So go on. What happened next?" He looks down at me, and I can see the reflection of my face in his eyes. Wide eyes, and an excited grin. Like a child waiting for grandfather to tell them a story.

He bites his lip, eyes wandering the room before stopping on the largest, most ornate painting in the room. Twice as wide as the door, the canvas overflows with bright figures in swirling robes, the cloth dancing around the pillars and draping down a marble balcony. I can't tell if this is Biblical or Greek Gods in inspiration, but the four men depicted are angelic.

"I can't describe the struggle of working with human blood, but after two centuries of forced will, he could. Two centuries, and not a drop touched his lips while he fought bloodlust. And now, he can barely smell it. But he wasn't the only vampire in medicine. He found a similar soul with similar ideals."

He touches the sedate quartet of figures painted on the highest balcony, looking down on the mayhem below them, the slaughter of innocents and maiming of animals. I examine the grouping carefully and realize, with a startled laugh, that I know the golden-haired man at the far right.

"The Volturi greatly inspired Solimena, and they invited him into their world. He, in return, treated them like gods," Edward sneers, terrifying anger flashing through his eyes. "Aro, Marcus, and Caius Volturi," he says, pointing to the two with black hair, and one with icy white. "Nighttime patrons of the arts, of medicine, and veritable vampire royalty."

"What happened to them?" I wonder aloud, my fingertip hovering a centimeter from the figures on the canvas.

"They're still there." He says an edge to his voice. "Residing in Volterra, Italy. He stayed with them for a few decades, thinking they would become family. But they tried to make him kill humans. They treat the entire human race as something below them, as if they weren't human at one point. Something to herd and abuse and devour. He came to America not long after that, began traveling and practicing medicine." When Edward turns back to me, a gentle angel's smile lights his expression. "And so, we've come full circle," he concludes.

"Have you always stayed with Carlisle, then?" I ask softly, my lips trembling. He hesitates, hugging himself and shaking his head.

"Almost always. I mentioned a rebellious phase, didn't I?" He leads us from the office, doors closing quietly behind us.

"You did, yes." He swallows hard, not at all wanting to answer. "You don't have to..."

"Yes, I do. Ten years after I was changed... born ... whatever you want to call it, we had a falling out. I wasn't exactly sold on his life of abstinence, and I resented him for curbing my appetite, and for creating me at all. I went off on my own for a time."

"Whoa, really?" I feel intrigued rather than frightened, the logic center of my brain taking a back-seat to the curiosity that builds. We start up the stairs to the third floor, my eyes trained on the floor just to be safe.

"You aren't repulsed?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"You said yourself that even the strongest fall off the wagon. And I know that from experience. Besides, like I said before, I trust you." He barks out a laugh and flicks my nose.

"Since this second life began," he says, guiding me down the light blue halls of the third floor, "I had the advantage of knowing what everyone around me was thinking. That's why it took me so long to defy Carlisle. He was always so sincere, even when under the ruse of a young American doctor.

"It took years, but I returned. On my knees, begging for forgiveness. I thought I wouldn't feel guilt. But I did. I could hear their terror when I killed them." His eyes hit the floor, and he takes in a shaking breath. "I didn't recognize myself. I saw the monster Carlisle feared as a child. No matter the justification, I felt cruel. And they both welcomed me with open arms, crying and hugging me for a solid day. It was more than I deserved."

Edward stops at the end of the hallway, a white door with the words "Bella's Room" written in green on the front. Around my name are hearts, flowers, and a butterfly. My brow raises and I squint.

"Alice?"

"Esme." He opens the door and grins triumphantly. "Me."

I cross the threshold, my jaw dropping. A four-poster queen bed with green curtains draws me in, the deep brown wood marbled with age lines. To my left, two hold walls of bookshelves and a little nook tucked against a round window. To my right, a work desk, a set of beanbag chairs, and a fuzzy purple rug. The walls are a warm golden brown, with photographs of Phoenix sprinkled around them. I choke up, feeling warmth run down my cheeks.

"Did we do alright?" I nod, hugging Edward tight, squeaking as pain shocks through my broken wrist, and go deeper inside, launching myself on the bed. Pillows shoot up, flopping at my sides and on my head. "Oh my god, you're 12."

"You shut your whore mouth, Edward."

A second voice joins Edward's in laughing, and I sit up, making my glasses straight on my face. Alice is standing beside him, shaking her head. She's in a massive t-shirt and sweatpants, looking almost nothing like the fashionista she is everywhere else.

"I'm glad you're settling in," she says, looking almost microscopic next to Edward. "I got some clothes for you, I hope that's okay. Edward helped, since we've got different tastes." She zooms to a dresser and pulls out a shirt, sitting next to me on the bed and spreading it out. "I got Freddy, Jason, Michael, and Leatherface on one shirt for you!" Alice bounces in her seat, fingers drumming on her legs.

"Alice, this is amazing! Thank you," I lean over and hug her, and she hugs me back, making my spine crack a bit.

"Ah! Sorry, sorry." Her eyes flicker around, cheeks flushing red. "I uh ... don't really touch humans that much. I'll be more careful, I promise! Don't forget to ride with Jasper and I tomorrow — we're going to go over the plan in the morning." Alice ruffles my hair and heads to the door, hopping and giving Edward a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Lively little pixie, isn't she?" Edward grabs the knob, backing outside. "My bedroom is just down the hall should you need me. If anyone gets too loud, I wholly recommend using your headphones. Especially with Rosalie and Emmett." He shivers in disgust. "Hard to get those thoughts out of my nightmares. Goodnight, _ma belle_."

"Sweet dreams, Edward." I turn off the lights and roll myself up in the comforter, hoping that everything will be easy, be quick, and that my dad will be safe from the vampire we're after.

Almost as if acting on script, Jessica approaches me at the school with a wide, confused look in her eyes. I smile and wave, going off to the side with her so the other cars can pull in.

"Were you at Edward Cullen's last night?"

"Yeah, at my dad's insistence. He's leaving town for a few days, and he knows the Cullens will look after me. We talk to each other before bed, he keeps me updated. It's pretty chill."

"Leaving town? But what about the animal attacks? Shouldn't he be leading the search?" Jessica's solid point makes me jolt inside. I force my face to stay straight, brow twitching from the lie I have to pull from my ass.

"He's going to other towns with similar attacks," actually true. "And gathering other police officers to go with him into the forest down here," not at all true. "He said something about establishing a kill pattern to figure out what the animal is. My money is on a pissed off bear."

From the distance, Emmett cackles like mad, Edward having to wack his shoulder with a book to calm him down. Thankfully, Jessica didn't notice, her lips pursed together. This has to be her thinking face, she makes it so often during tests.

"Anyway, how did the dance go? Was Tyler a gentleman?" The change in subject makes her face brighten.

"It was amazing! We got voted King and Queen. You should have seen Mike's face when we got on stage, he was _so_ mad." We laugh, my mental image likely not the exact expression. Though I'm also imagining him pouting like a toddler the entire time.

"I'm happy for you, Jess, truly." We head to our first classes together, and from across the hall I see Edward and Jasper, nodding and winking in my direction. Okay, she believed me. One step down. I'm not looking forward to part two.

His room faces south, with a wall-sized window showing the upper layers of the forest. The whole back side of the house _has _to be glass. I haven't seen anything else this way. I spot the Sol Duc River, winding around the untouched forest and toward the Olympic mountains. They are much closer than I imagined them.

With music playing softly in the background, Edward and I try to focus on our assignments — though I'm sure that his is for show, the page seems filled out from my angle. We're settled on a worn-in couch, him on his back, legs resting against the wall, and me curled on the other end, books stacked beside me.

"How is it I need to know the exact date of Napoleon's death, but there isn't even a Home Ec. extracurricular in this school?" I set another book on the history text, scanning for key vocabulary words.

"Because the principal thinks the failing football team is more important than actual life skills. You know, some people think Napoleon died in South America? Yeah, it was a huge conspiracy ages ago. I think it's shit, but he was way before my time."

"You gotta be younger than something, Edward." The music changes to classical and my head shoots up. "Hey, Linkin Park! Nice choice. How the hell is your music organized?"

"First, by year, then genre, then preference." He holds up three fingers. "It's completely randomized on my phone, but the walls of CDs and vinyl are pretty much everything I have on it." He lowers his work and rolls his eyes to the side, "I may even have some 8-tracks somewhere." We look around the room, walls draped in dark, heavy cloth and a simple single bed tucked into the corner. And on the floor? Evidence that he is as messy as every other 20-year-old on the planet. "... yeah, somewhere."

"It amazes me that, for someone as old as you are, you're less organized than I am. And I lost two of the three Jane Austen essay copies I made." A pencil prods at my cheek. "Hey, don't attack the impaired." I hold up my braced arm, and he sticks his tongue out.

"Don't mock your elders." I close my books and flop onto my side, cheek landing on Edward's chest. "I am not your pillow."

"My head hurts and your body is like an ice pack." I remove my glasses so the arms won't bend. "Besides, if we're really going forward with Jasper's bait plan, then I should probably be in decent condition. Can't run for my life with a throbbing frontal lobe." I close my eyes, blocking out Edward's constant poking of my forehead. I roll on my face and grumble at him.

The door opens, and Esme's twinkling laugh hits my ears. "Edward, did you tire out the poor girl?"

"She did this to herself, cross my heart, Esme." His cold fingers run through my hair. No doubt he has his crooked smile on full display for her. A smaller hand fluffs the hair on the back of my head and sighs.

"Carlisle is going to be home in an hour, he's taking the others hunting before we go to the field. Do you want me to watch her so you can go?"

"No, but thank you. I went last night, you go right on out. We'll be fine here. Besides ... I'm comfortable as I am." There's a heavy silence. I hear cloth shift, and Esme's voice is a little closer.

"You should tell her before this all goes down, Edward." I hear a kiss and she walks from the room. "Tell her to call Charlie before we leave."

"No problem, Esme. See you in an hour." The door closes, and after a couple minutes of nothing, Edward flicks my head. "It's rude to fake sleep when someone visits." I reach over and cover his mouth, shushing him. His tongue hits my fingers and I yelp, jumping backwards. "Gross, but effective."

"You're lucky I already broke my hand, or I'd break it slapping you." Edward chuckles smugly, handing me my phone from the end table. "Thank you." I dial Charlie's number and hold it to my ear. "John Harker to Dr. Van Helsing. Come in, Van Helsing."

"This is Abraham Van Helsing, how are things out in Dracula's castle?" I can hear the food in his mouth. The semi-gross popping makes my stomach churn.

"If you don't swallow that bite..."

"Ah, sorry!" A dramatic gulp. "Sorry, I've been noshing like crazy since you left. I have no idea how many of those little cakes I've eaten today. How was school? How's the plan?"

"School was fine, boring as always. Save the volleyball game, which is always Hell. Jasper and Emmett snuck in a recorded me falling on my ass repeatedly." My eyes narrow at the resounding snickers from the other end of the line. "I'll get you for that. And uh, Jasper said we're going to go forward with it on Friday. According to Alice, the blonde guy is still debating killing me, which is ... eehhh." I hear something snap and see that Edward has bitten a metal pen in half. I have a feeling this represents his current mental state.

"So, what _is _the plan?"

"Get their attention during the thunderstorm. We've thrown a few ideas back and forth, from the girls wearing my jackets to Edward and the guys playing hot-potato with me in the forest."

"The Fantastic Flying Girl."

"Yeah, really. Not a fan of that one," I glance at Edward who is avoiding my eyes by checking my homework, his lips curled together. "We could always make a ton of noise no animal could do." Charlie laughs at that, and I hear the crunch of gravel. "Are you driving? Should I hang up?"

"You're on my speaker, don't worry. Y'all should do something stupid, like playing football or something up there. Can you imagine the look on their faces, spotting Emmett with a pigskin two seconds before Edward and Carlisle knock him on his ass."

"Oh man, I'll have to take my phone to record it. How's the traveling?" The couch shifts behind me, a cool, slender hand playing with the fluffy frizz on the top of my head. I glance up, not seeing a thing with the combination of sightlines and my lack of glasses.

"It is what it is. Do I like it? Ha! No. But if Carlisle and Jasper think it's the smart move, and you're on board with it, then I'm not quite as afraid as I would be. You just ... work on your blocking, okay? Have one of them work with you. For your old man's sake."

"For your sake, and mine, Dad. I'm gonna get something to eat and then get some practice in. After homework. Vampire attacks don't delay high school."

"You bet your ass they don't. Alright, I'm gonna get back to driving. I just passed a patrolman and I'm in _your_ truck. Better safe than ticketed."

"Drive safe, don't piss off any cops."

"I'll do my best, hon. I love you."

"Love you too, Dad. Bye." He hangs up first, and I drop the phone beside me. Though fuzzy, I manage to spot Edward a couple feet in front of me, with his phone out. Snickering like mad. I reach up, meeting a tiny, chilly hand. "Alice?"

"Yep! I heard what your dad said. What does he mean by blocking?" She leans over, her fake glasses falling on my lap. "Is it like the mind thing you do to Edward?"

"Well, yeah. I can make my shield a physical thing. He thinks it'll help with keeping the vampire off me."

"That's a good idea!" She squeaks, rising and clapping just out of my line of sight. "Edward, can I help her with that? Can I please?"

"Well, Malice, that isn't up to me. That's Miss Swan's choice." I pick my glasses up and regain my sight, Alice sliding down and sitting beside me with her bottom lip out. "Aww, she's begging."

"I am not!" She picks up a throw pillow and fulfills her teasing nickname, hitting Edward with enough force to make him fall back on his bed. He bounces and settles, feet somehow still on the floor.

"It is very dusty up there."

I reach over and pat Alice's hand. "Hey, if you wanna help, then can you get a few things and find somewhere where we _won't _break a window?"

"Oh, I know the perfect place," she bounces, clapping her hands. "Jasper uses the basement to practice combat techniques every evening. And since he'll be okay with us borrowing it," she says while texting, "I'll go down right now. What will we need?"

"Projectiles." I see Edward shoot up from his bed, face blank.

"I need to get Esme's camera," and off he goes.

The self-described combat room is pretty well what I assumed it would be. Steel walls, dented heavily, with sealed cracks Pollock'd around. Pushed out of the way are semi-destroyed models of animals and people, none of them showing the animalistic instinct I expect from a vampire.

Alice is standing at the far end, bouncing on her toes and singing to herself. At her hip are two sacks I can only pray have no rocks in them. Jasper is sitting on a set of bleachers with Edward and Emmett, who look extremely entertained. Emmett, who arrived just moments ago with Jasper, is giddy as a schoolgirl, eyes darting from me to Alice like it's a death match. And maybe it is? I don't know just how hard the pixie just ten yards away can throw.

I close my eyes, let out a breath, and feel my shield manifest at my hands. The crowd of three oo's and ahh's, and a clap echoes through the room.

"Go, Bella!" Emmett calls out.

"Okay, please don't try to knock me out, Alice," I say in a normal tone, knowing she can hear me just fine. "Aim toward me, don't use all your strength. Oh, this is more nerve-wracking than with my dad."

"You can do this. Head's up, Bella." The first projectile comes hurdling at me, a simple baseball that looks worn out. I swing my hand out, sending it sailing into the wall. I feel my left arm throb sharply and hiss, my shield wavering.

I straighten my posture, raise my right hand and shout "Again!" She nods and sends something shiny headed my why. I step forward, punting it with the side of my forearm, the glass figurine shattering and cutting into my sleeve. I don't feel a sting on my skin, and I ready for another one, watching glass crystals dance around the air and land all around me.

Someone shouts to Alice, but I block them out, eyeballing her bag and reaching for it. The bag rises, and before I realize what's happening, it slams against the wall, everything inside busting out and either rolling around or breaking into pieces.

All eyes fall on me, all mouths agape in shock. I look at my hand and blink. Edward's hand envelopes mine, his fingers checking me over for cuts of any kind. I look at him, feeling the stupid grin on my face.

"Did you see that?" I grab his shirt, shaking him. "I picked up the bag. With my _brain_! Did you see that?"

"Y-yes, I did. Are you feeling okay? I haven't seen you do something like that since..."

"Dude, _fuck_ those guys. They're not a problem anymore," I look at Emmett and Jasper, who are flanking Edward. "I moved the bag! With my head!"

"You sure she's human?" Emmett asks Edward, his brows furrowed.

"She doesn't smell like anything else, Em," Jasper cuts in, his face hard set. "But she doesn't act like one, that's for damn sure." He pats my shoulder and smiles, his eyes wrinkling like an old man. "Well done, Bella. But uh, you should get some sleep. We all should. Day after next is the big day. And we still need to decide how to draw them in before they leave."

"Wouldn't it be better to just ... make a huge, unnatural racket?" I ask. "I dunno, we could play baseball in the middle of a field or something." The three guys exchange a look, and I take a step back. "Hey wait no, I was joking!"


	18. The Storm

It's just beginning to drizzle when the front door opens. There's a surprise visitor, in an old black Ford. Julie and Billy come inside with water on their coats, Julie taking her hair down and shaking it free. Billy waves at me, going toward Carlisle, who is waiting by the stairs.

"I have an elevator set up over here, Mr. Black. Come on, we'll talk in my office. Everyone," he snaps his fingers, eyeballing the three of us, "no listening in. That goes double for Edward and doesn't count at all for Esme." As he says that, she prances up behind him, kissing his cheek and vanishing into a cleverly hidden elevator in the wall.

Julie rushes up to Edward and me with a smile, her eyes flicking over to Edward anxiously. "Hey, tall, pale, and creepy."

"Wonderful to see you again, Ms. Black." He says formally, stiffly, his shaking hands set at my hip. I shake my head, heart skipping a beat when Julie jumps forward and hugs us both. Edward swallows hard, pressing his chest to my back.

"I thought Charlie was joshing when he said you'd be here. What's going on?" I rub the back of my neck and hold up my broken hand. "Holy shit, Bella!"

"There are rogue vampires, and one might have set its sights on me. So, we're going to ..."

"Kill him," Edward finishes, "before he can hurt anyone in town. Or on the reservation."

"Are these the same bloodsuckers that have been headed toward us for a while?" She looks at him with wide doe eyes, hands reaching out for his arm. Breaking away from me, he takes Julie's hand and squeezes it. "Are you sure you can get them?"

"After they ran into Bella, their entire path changed. They aren't going to La Push, and we'll make sure they don't turn back. I assume that's what Billy and Carlisle are talking about."

"I think so. My dad doesn't really want to involve me in vampire drama. Says it's why my sisters left us. I don't really believe that, but it's not like I can leave, anyway. Hard to find a decent nurse willing to drive to far out of town."

"I'll have Carlisle ask around. Billy deserves some good home care, and you deserve a break." Edward's body completely relaxes, and he looks over her shoulder. "Why on earth do I smell fish?" Julie turns and gestures outside, toward her truck.

"My dad got some fried fish from Harry Clearwater. We're running it by Charlie's little hiding place on our way home. It's not his normal place, otherwise I coulda taken it myself. He texted Dad with the directions, we'll be there and back before midnight." She pauses and leans in. "His contact is _Honeybun_." She glances at me, a brow raised.

"Hey," I raise my hands, "what they do on their own time is not my business." Edward chuckles, hiding a grin behind his hand. "I'll keep you updated on what happens, I promise."

"Thank you, Bella." Julie hugs me again, squeezing this time. "I'd hate to lose you before summer. I'm gonna get my motorcycle license and terrorize your old man."

"Call me before you do that." Edward doesn't hide his wicked, horrific smile this time. "I want to get his reaction on camera. With multiple angles. As blackmail material."

"You got it, old man. Speaking of," she looks over her shoulder, to the approaching pair of Carlisle and Billy, "the oldest men in the room are arriving."

"Billy is a baby compared to me," Edward jokes, much to Carlisle's chagrin.

"Let's not talk about age right now. I felt old the other day when Esme had to stop me from snapping my smartphone shut." Carlisle shakes his head and gestures to Billy. "I was just told the rogues have been spotted closer to the Quileute reservation, so we've changed the plan. We were going to wait until the storm front had settled in, but with them threatening to breach territories, we can't take the risk."

Julie tenses, her eyes going wide. "Wait, are they going to attack us?"

"According to Alice, not if we act before midnight tomorrow. That gives us just over a day to prepare the plan that Miss Swan here accidentally gave the boys. The others are setting up now that way there will be no delays." He pauses and looks at Billy, eyes heavy with concern, "If you two want, you can stay here until everything has settled down."

"Personally, I'd rather go home," Billy says with a shrug. "I'm old, I'm in a wheelchair, and my give a damn about vampires is busted." Carlisle offers Billy a nod of respect, and in return he gets a dismissive hand wave. "But all things considered, I want Julie to stay here."

"I'll deliver the food to Charlie, if you like," Carlisle offers, looking more at Julie than Billy. She nods, pointing to the truck. "Alright, where am I headed?"

"Small cabin not far from here. If you head north, you'll meet his scent in about ten miles, give or take." Carlisle nods, reaching and shaking Billy's hand, both men lingering enough for the fear between them to become thick in the room. And with that, Carlisle vanishes from sight, the only evidence of his moving being the air around us shifting, and the sound of the front door shutting. Billy goes over to the fireplace and sighs.

"D-don't mind him," Julie whispers, "he's just ... he's tired. He's scared."

"We'll make sure nothing happens to the reservation, Julie." Edward lays a hand on her shoulder. "C'mon, I'll take you to one of our spare rooms. We should hit the hay soon."

"I'll be up in a second," I back away, pulling out my phone. "I'm gonna call Charlie. I want to make sure he's safe." They nod and start off without me, my shaking hands hitting his quick dial picture. "Pick up, Dad... pick up..."

"Hello?" He answers, breathless.

"Dad! Has Carlisle been by yet?"

"Been and gone, said there was a change of plans before taking off like a bat outta Hell. What's the problem?"

"The nomads are sticking too close to La Push, if we don't act now, there's a chance they'll attack the Quileute. The plan is happening tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow? No, hell no, this is too soon! I'm coming over."

"Dad, no. If he smells you nearby, he'll run. I'm sure even you teasing the notion is messing with Alice's visions. Just hang tight, I promise things will be okay. I promise." I hear his hesitation, his gun shifting on whatever table is in front of him, and a curse under his breath.

"You better text me before you go. Promise?"

"I promise, Dad." I make a soft kissing sound on the microphone. "I love you."

"I love you too, Bells. Try to get some rest." The call ends, and I stuff the phone in my pocket.

A soft sigh catches my attention. "He isn't going to come." I turn, spotting Alice a few feet away. She's shuffling in her shoes, smile wide and eyes almost sparkling. I can't even imagine how her innocence must shatter when she's in full sunlight ... "He trusts you."

"I-I'm glad to hear that." I say, rubbing the back of my neck. "You didn't go with the others?"

"No... Emmett said I should stay here and focus on watching the Nomad's movements. Last I checked, they're sleeping in the forest canopy." She shrugs, bouncing on her toes. "I wanted to ask if you were feeling alright. I can't see your future, probably for the same reason Edward can't read your mind, but Jasper kept you calm during the practice session a bit, so I just ..."

"Want to be sure my emotions are in check?" With a grin, I watch as Alice hesitates, and nods again. "To be honest, I just want to lock myself in the closet and scream. But I can't. There's no time for that."

"Seems like a normal thing to want in this situation. I suppose." Her eyes flick to the side, red irises seeming to fade. "It makes the most sense when I think about it." She rubs her wrists, movements almost mechanical, like it's a compulsion and she isn't at all aware of it.

The closer I look at her wrists... the more it looks like there are faint scars on them. Like friction burns... I wonder what...

"Bella!" Julie's voice makes me jump, Alice's body language changing when she faces the stairs. Her shoulders rise, her eyes brighten, and her smile returns. "C'mon, it's almost midnight."

"You should get some sleep." Alice hugs me lightly, letting me return the gesture with a squeeze. "Sweet dreams, Bella."

"See you tomorrow, Alice." I climb up the stairs, with stars dancing sleepily in my eyes.

Ice water races through my veins, rooting me in the corner where I find myself curled up in, back against the uncomfortable V the damp brick makes. Someone's crying in the dark, the only light coming from a buzzing lamp that won't stop swinging above my head. The sobs are soft, are echoing, are from just a few feet away. A door creaks open, and I see her.

"Alice...?" She doesn't hear me, she stays curled on herself, her plain dress muddy and tattered, her feet are bleeding, and her long, dark hair in a tangled knot on her head. There's a bed beside her, the frame made of metal, and a sink at the end. She protects her head with her arms, much fuller than they look in the real world, and a man in a long, white coat approaches her.

"_Mary Alice Brandon, do you know why you're here?_" He says in a monotone, flat voice.

"_He tried to kill me...like he killed my Mama..._" Her voice is different, more childish and with a strong Southern drawl. "_I tried to warn her..._"

"_Mary, these delusions of yours are why you're here. Your father wants you to be safe_."

Her head shoots up, pie eyes wet with tears. "_He sent that man to kill me because I knew. I saw it coming. I'm not a liar, I'm not insane_." With a sigh, the doctor leans out the door.

"_Bring restraints, we need to transport her to treatment_." Alice looks up at him, and her eyes widen, her face paling close to her vampiric state. "_Now Mary, we're going to go down the hall and..._"

"_No! I won't let you do it! You won't shock me!_" She stands, taking the bed and flipping it on its side, hiding behind the metal frame. It's useless. It's pointless. It's something that a kid would do...and that's when it hits me. I approach where Alice is hiding, everything slowing to a stop.

I crouch to see her face-to-face, taking in her soft, round face and dark brown eyes. The peach fuzz on her cheeks, the straight shape of her body. I fall to my knees, and the scene plays out with my eyes locked with hers. Alice is pixie-like because she's still a kid. Eternally a kid. Carlisle didn't do this to her, right? He wouldn't turn a child into a vampire. That would be _cruel_.

As she's pulled away from me, the room shifts. The bed is on the other side. The walls are covered in charcoal sketches of rooms and people and places. And Alice is sitting on her bed, with a smile not quite reaching her eyes, sketching absently on a notepad. Her thick hair is gone, with slight cuts along her scalp. Her bones are protruding slightly, and while I don't know quite how much time has passed, there is a knock at the door, and someone unknown to me walks in, lowering the temperature greatly.

"_Mary Alice Brandon?_"

"_Alice. Please, just Alice._" She sets the notepad on her lap and smiles up at the vampire, his wrinkled face and silver hair doing nothing to mask the unnatural beauty present in these predators. "_Is it time for my treatment?_"

"_I'm afraid so, Alice. Doctor Brown assures me it won't be like last time. No more electroshock, just some tablets and an injection. But I do have some questions for you, if that's alright._"

"_Alright, I'm ready,_" she beams up at him, and he returns her happiness.

"_When is your birthday?_"

"_April 7th, 1901. I'll be 12 this year!_"

"_Oh, that's wonderful! I'll be sure the nurses bring you your favorite treat. What is your mother's name?_"

Her smile falters. "_Ah ... Anna. Anna-Marie Brandon._" He nods, writing on his clipboard. I stand and look over his shoulder. She was wrong, kinda. Anna-Marie is listed as her stepmother on the sheet. He writes a note by the name Lillian.

"She's forgotten her mother... what is going on here?"

"_Siblings?_"

"_Cindy! She's my baby sister. She has pretty blue eyes, and yellow hair like a princess._" This time it's the doctor's turn to frown. We both look at the small photograph of Cindy — Cynthia — on his board. The photograph is black-and-white, but her hair is clearly dark, same with her eyes. He whispers to himself, and Alice gasps. "_Oh, no..._"

"_What is it, Alice?_"

"_Doctor Brown's still going to shock me. Because of what you wrote. He...he likes that I'm forgetting Cindy. He wants me to forget Mama. He and Papa do._"

"_Why would you say that, sweetling?_" She curls up and sets her chin on her knees.

"_You know why I'm here. I don't know why you're asking. But even if I forget them, I'll still be crazy to Doctor Brown. Because I'll still see things. Like him._" She looks at the drawings on the wall and points to one. "_He's still choosing, but I see him almost every night. He's slowly getting closer. He'll choose soon_."

"_Choose what, Alice?_" At that moment, another doctor appears — the same from before — and the vampire jumps. "_Doctor Brown, I'm not quite finished with Patient Brandon here..._"

"_The patient is late for her sessions, Move along, Doctor Vance_."

"_Just give me one more moment with her, please._" He approaches Doctor Brown, keeping their eyes locked. Brown sneers and nods, closing the door. Instantly, Vance is kneeling in front of Alice and grabbing her shoulders. "_What choice, Alice? Please, tell me._"

"_To my death. If he chooses so, he'll kill me._"

Everything crumbles. Alice. Vance. The room. Until the walls are covered in nothing but drawings of the same man. There is a desk now, and a longer bed. And there's Alice once again, looking nearly identical to the one I know. Her shaved hair has gotten fuzzy, but maintained, and you can see a slight bit of physical development. She's in a pleated skirt and a button up, swinging her legs as she fills yet another page with a charcoal sketch of whoever is stalking her visions and dreams.

The door opens, and Vance walks in, watching as she moves almost mechanically over her sketch.

"_... they did it again_." He says under his breath. "_What else can they take from her? Her personality? Her will? They already forced amnesia onto her. Poor child..._" He slowly approaches her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "_Alice? Alice, do you recognize me?_"

No reply, just absent, happy drawing. He looks at her drawings, his body starting to tense.

"_Another one... getting closer. I can't let him kill her. I can't_." He sits on her bed, his unnatural face creased by wrinkles of age and exhaustion. He has darkness around his eyes, and the red of his irises are muddy, like spilled blood. He rakes his hair from his face and plays piano on his leg.

"_Doctor?_" Alice turns and tilts her head, taking in his uniform with slight recognition. "_It's not time for my treatment, is it?_"

"_No, Alice. You're done with treatments. You're being released soon._" Vance straightens his back, patting the bed. "_Sit here, I have something for you_." She complies, looking up at him with a soft smile up to her eyes. "_Do you know what today is, Alice_?"

"_I-I don't know_..." she rubs her arms and looks away, not wanting to meet his gaze. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a file, about an inch thick. The rustling makes Alice turn back, her eyes lighting up. "_What is that_?"

"_It's your birthday present, Alice. You're 14 today. That means you have been here for three years. And this,_" he taps the file, "_is everything you've forgotten. And I want you to promise me you'll read it only when you're somewhere safe._" He sets it on her lap, her little hands caressing the worn material.

"_I thought people were let out when they turned 18, Doctor_."

"_Ah... usually, yes. But you have a special circumstance._" He chews his lip and looks out the window, nostrils flaring. In his first outward sign of vampirism, he growls, eyes narrowing. Alice isn't frightened by the unnatural outburst. She takes his hand and pulls on it.

"_You made an awful choice, Doctor. I can't see you anymore. Why would you choose something that would kill you?_"

"_Because some things are more important. Close your eyes and try not to scream_." Nodding, Alice closes her eyes, Vance taking in a deep breath before lunging at her throat. A roar rips through the air, but it isn't the small shriek from Alice — it's from the widow, and the shadow that is violently trying to break the bars off.

"_You bastard!_" Oh god, that voice... "_She's mine! Mine!_" The blonde nomad breaks into the room, snarling and pushing Vance onto the wall over the bed, letting Alice fall to the ground. Vance licks his lip and spits Alice's blood on the nomad's face, a shit-eating grin on his lips.

"_She's already changing, she's strong enough to survive. You lost, James. You can't kill her now._" His eyes trail over in my direction, and his face falls. "_The game is at hand..._" His eyes flutter closed right as the Nomad — as James — tears his head off his shoulders.

I spend the entire day thinking about what I saw. I spend the entire day making small glances at Alice, noticing youth that I was blind to before. Her fae-like appearance is all because she was changed in the throes of puberty, and will never finish it. She's frozen as a child.

Forever. God, what level of Hell would that be for a woman her age?

"Bella, are you feeling alright?" My head pops up, and I realize I'm sitting alone in the library, my homework spread out before me. Has the school day already ended? What did I even do all day? Angela sits beside me, Jessica behind her. "Jess told me you're staying with the Cullens for a while. How're you holding up? Is your dad safe?"

"Yeah, Dad's fine. He's been sending me random emojis and gifs all day. I'm waiting for Emmett and Jasper to get done with assisting the middle school coaches." I roll my eyes, remembering how Edward and the girls just vanished on me after a quick whisper of needing to get supplies.

You're vampires. You can get them at the last damn second. Literally.

"Sounds like what my dads do." Angela says with a small giggle. "But um ... well, we've noticed you acting quieter than normal. Which is pretty bad considering you're almost as quiet as Edward half the time."

"And you kept looking at Alice like she could break at any second. Which, I mean," Jessica raises her hands, "I do it sometimes too, because she looks like a literal baby in some lights, but you looked like you were about to cry. We're ... we're starting to worry about you. You don't pay attention to shit anymore."

"You're always zoned out or picking at your arm brace." Angela gestures to my broken wrist, her eyes narrowing. "Meanwhile, you never even told us what happened to it."

"And you look like you haven't slept in a month!" Jessica punctuates her frustration with a point in my direction, accusing me of something unstated, but obvious. "We aren't going to make you talk, but we will stare at you until you're uncomfortable." I blink for a couple seconds and slowly take my glasses off. "Hey, no! Put those back on. I refuse to be fuzzy."

"Says the girl with curly hair." I sigh, putting my glasses back on. I pyramid my fingers and consider my options. None are good. I can't tell them the truth; not only will they not believe me, but it would put the coven at risk. And I don't want to lie to them. I'm a shitty enough person for simply keeping it from them. It's a long shot, but I think I know what to do. I close my textbooks and look at them both. "I ... I can't tell you."

"What do you mean you _can't_?" Angela's hand covers her mouth. "Bella, is someone hurting you?"

"It isn't like that," — _kinda _— "but I literally can't tell you what is going on. It's ... it's bigger than I am, and I don't want to make the situation any worse than it already is." They look at each other, completely confused, a little angry. And judging from Jessica's glance at my necklace ... a touch of suspicion. A little too aware that one is. "I will tell you one thing. Would you be content with one thing?"

"One thing is better than absolutely nothing, Bella." Jessica snaps, crossing her arms.

"That's true... there's a chance that... I could be gone for a while. I don't know how long, but I'm going to get hurt. Bad. But it's all for a good cause. I promise. Will you accept that?"

"I ... I don't like this," Angela says softly, growing smaller in her chair. Jessica, on the other hand, loses tension in her shoulders and nods. "Jess, you're taking this a little too well."

"What else can I do? If it's this big of a thing, then I don't know if I even want the details." She rubs her temples and looks at her watch when it vibrates. "My mom's here. I have to get going. You just be safe, Bella. Okay? Okay. See you." They both stand, waving their awkward farewells before vanishing behind the door, leaving me with a brick of ice in my stomach.

That's when Jasper appears at my side and pats my shoulder.

"Don't worry about them, _chica_. They're better off not knowing the truth. C'mon, Em's got the jeep ready. We're getting you some dinner before heading out." Though still robotic around me, Jasper's tone almost soothes me. I gather my belongings and we slowly walk to the parking lot. "You know, I can still tell what you're feeling."

"What?" I glance around, double checking the completely empty hallway just to be safe.

"Edward can't read your mind. Alice can't see your choices. But I can experience your emotions. Because they aren't just in your head, they're in your body. In how you hold yourself, in how you emote. In your eyes." He puts his hands in his pockets, slouching slightly. "You aren't scared, not that I can tell. You lack the jitteriness of one in mortal danger. Instead, you're worried for everyone else. The father who is far away, the friends who feel shut off from you. And Edward." He looks down at me. "Am I right so far?"

"... p-painfully so." I look at my shoes, watching the raggedy Chucks walk in time with his boots. "If I wasn't here, none of this would be happening..."

"Oh, the nomads would have come, anyway. We probably would have just ignored them or sent Charlie and Carlisle to run them off. But now, it's more serious. And who knows if the one would have gone after another young woman."

"That's true..."

"Now then, let's just keep our chins up." With his shoulders squared, Jasper opens the door to the parking lot. "It's three against eight, there's no possible way of any of them doing any lasting damage to you or anyone else. Not unless something freakish happens."

"Who are you calling a freak, Jay?" Emmett whaps Jasper on the back, his bright smile making the world seem a bit lighter. "Hey Bella, you ready to kick some vampire ass tonight?"

"I guess so, yeah. I wish it could have been tomorrow, so we'd have the weekend. But hey, maybe I'll get to miss my Trig exam."

"Always look for the positives. Let's get in before it drizzles." The guys go to the front seats of Emmett's silver jeep, and I climb in the back, ready to strap in. Only ... there are way too many buckles back here.

"Hey, uh... what's all this?"

"It's an off-road harness. Just use the waist belt for now, we won't be headed into the woods for a few more hours, and Ed can strap you in then." He winks and snickers. "The guy acts like you're made of glass sometimes, it's so weird."

"Oh, come off him, Emmett. You know perfectly well how awkward you were when you first met Rosalie."

"I was a newborn vampire who got my life saved by what I thought was a forest nymph. Excuse _me_ for not being Casanova. Edward's over a hundred, he should be able to talk to girls by now." We head into town, Emmett and Jasper bickering over who had the weirdest pre-Cullen period. Jasper takes the lead while discussing running naked across a body of water to scare a bunch of campers in the 1930s. Though Emmett pretending to be his own twin brother in the seventies is funny as hell.

We run through the local Burger King, Jasper and Emmett laughing over my choice of sandwich, but getting the Red Velvet Oreo shakes just because they agree it looks disgusting. While I eat, I watch the two vampires enjoy their shakes with the occasional wisecrack or direction correction. I'm still not entirely sure what happens to food when a vampire eats it. Edward went to the bathroom once. But that doesn't necessarily mean he was being honest. Maybe they throw it up, or maybe it digests with no nutritional value to it.

Do they even understand what happens inside their body?

We pull into the Cullen driveway and Emmett turns around, "Edward will help you get buckled in, we're going a partial way to our destination in the jeep. The rest of the way is running." I perk up at that, feeling Edward's body temperature before I see him.

"How'd the hunt go, nerd?" Edward rolls his eyes, muttering too low for me to hear as he straps me to the seat. Feeling like a child on a roller-coaster, I lurch back when Emmett hits the gas, Jasper whooping at the top of his lungs.

"The hunt went well," Edward says, taking off his jacket and tossing it at me. "Here, you can wear this when the rain starts. Just remember, that's my last hoodie." He points to me, eyes narrow. "I expect to have it back."

I pull the red hoodie over my shoulders, grinning like a maniac and burrowing into it, hiding my entire body in Edward's surprisingly warm jacket.

"... should I just give her all my hoodies from now on?" He asks the air, and Emmett nods.

"Dude, she's a girl. What's yours is hers, and what's hers is hers. I learned that lesson long ago with Rosalie."

"Aren't you two, like, married though?" I pipe in, and Edward immediately shrinks into his seat. Jasper chokes on his shake, coughing violently until the sound is a deep, somewhat cruel laugh. "...am I wrong?"

"No, you aren't. Rosalie and I have a wedding every decade. I think it makes her feel like a queen. I know it makes me feel like a king, seeing her in a golden gown walking toward me with that gorgeous smile of hers..."

"Oh my god, please don't start gushing, I've had enough of it." Jasper flicks Emmett's temple. "You two and your fairy tale romance is so cheesy."

"If you want cheese, look into Carlisle and Esme's love-life. It took me forever just to get Rosalie to go on a date with me." From his eyes in the mirror, Emmett has quite the evil grin on his face, his red eyes shining with mischief. "At least I have better luck than some guys around here." Edward kicks the back of Emmett's seat right as we come to a somewhat sharp stop.

"Fuck! Ah, man, I got milkshake on my shirt." Jasper hops out and strips from the waist up, exposing a collection of scratch and bite marks on his back. I scoot toward Edward, my hand grabbing and squeezing him tight. Jasper hides himself in his checkered overshirt, throwing rocks towards Emmett and shouting at him in Spanish.

"Edward..."

"I didn't know him then. Jasper the second oldest of us, and his past hasn't really been a discussion point beyond Alice bringing him to us a few decades ago. I can only assume," Edward helps me get detached from the seat and opens my door, "that it wasn't a pretty sight."

I hop out onto Edward's back, my legs and arms tightening until I would end up breaking the bones of a normal man. I feel rain hit the hood of the jacket and toss my head back, letting the hood fall so I can feel the cool droplets on my cheek. Edward snorts under me.

"I thought you didn't like cold, wet things?"

"Well, cold is growing on me. I might as well try to adapt to wetness. Let's get going before we get left behind." I press my face to Edward's shoulder and take in a deep breath. We're off in a snap, and the air whips around me with a soft, cutting sting from the rain on my cheeks and neck.

I dare to open my eyes, taking in the green blur of the world through the curls of Edward's hair. Panic fills me every time we approach a tree or large stone, but it's like he can predict where everything is and will be, almost dancing over every obstacle, landing with more grace than a trained danseur. I close my eyes again, his hair sticking to my cheek, knowing that he won't let anything hurt me. Especially not something as stupid as a tree.

For right now, there's nothing to be afraid of. It will change soon, so I grip his shirt and enjoy the small piece of peace in the cool wind. And then we stop, and I swallow, knowing that in just a few minutes there's a chance that my life could very well end. Edward crouches, and my feet hit the ground, permitting me to slide off him and not fall on my ass.

A cold hand fluffs my hair, and my eyes finally open. "You doing alright, Bella?"

"Yeah," I reach up and clean my glasses off, "yeah, I'm fine. So, what's the plan?"

"The plan is yours." He purses his lips, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "And of course, Emmett decided to take it a little too far."

"I did not!" Edward stands tall and turns, exposing a freshly constructed baseball diamond in the middle of nowhere.

As if reading my mind, Edward gestures to the surrounding structure, twice the size of any baseball stadium without the massive seating that touches the clouds. From fences to a small section of bench seating and even a dugout, he silently calls out Emmett's bullshit.

"Okay, maybe I did..." Emmett pulls his dreads back into a tall bun, fixing his tank top so it isn't caught in his jeans. "Live a little, old man."

"Now boys, please try to behave yourselves," Carlisle emerges from the dugout, tucking his braid into a baseball cap. He turns to the mountains around us, the Olympic peaks, and takes in a deep breath. "Esme, you couldn't have picked a better place to play." She drapes herself over his shoulder and kisses his cheek.

"You and Jasper agreed that we should be somewhere were humans wouldn't. And the view is just heavenly."

"Only an angel could have found this, my love. Alright, gloaming is at hand," he raises his hand toward the setting sun and turns on his heels. "It's time to get this show on stage. Alice, you're the pitcher. We got in reverse age order. Edward is up first with me batting last. Questions?"

"What does Bella do?" Rosalie asks, plopping a cap on my head.

"She can be umpire with Esme. Call them as you see them." Edward appears with a bat beside us, hitting his heels with the metal toy.

"They think we cheat." He sticks his tongue out at Esme, who crosses her arms.

"We know you cheat. I'll stand in front of you, sweetie, in case the kids miss the ball." I nod, crouching with her just to be safe. Alice dances to the mound and looks to the sky, her shriek of delight coming just seconds before a lightning bolt crashes through the sky.

"It's time!" The thunder rolls deeply, causing me to shiver.

"Eerie, isn't it?" Emmett says with easy familiarity, smiling at me.

"Are you ready for some ball?" Edward asks with bright eyes.

"Go Bats!" I cheer, causing Carlisle to cackle from second base. Esme looks at me from over her shoulder and mouths something that makes Edward turn back to the game and race to his place. Esme takes my hand to walk with me to first base.

"You don't like to play?"

"No, I prefer to referee. Keep these kids honest and make sure they don't hurt themselves. Honestly, we used to play all the time. Not baseball specifically, but just sports. You should have heard the arguments they would have." She snickers, shaking her head. "You'd think the boys were raised by wolves."

"You sound like my mother," I say with a laugh. Her face falls a bit, and she worries her lip between her teeth.

"Unlike Carlisle, I developed parental instincts before my change. Did Edward ever tell you about my son, Gray?"

"He didn't, no," I say, looking over and Edward and Jasper tossing a ball back and forth faster than light.

"He was my first baby, and my only one. We lost him a few days after, and my husband and I couldn't get over it." She sighs, laying her hand over her chest. "It broke my heart — so, I took my own life." She says it like it's nothing, like it's just a matter of fact. I choke on my breath.

"Edward just said you were hurt... Esme, I-I'm so sorry..."

"He doesn't like telling about our pasts unless we let him. He's always been a gentleman about mine. For a while, Carlisle and I masqueraded as his parents." Esme smiles, pulling her curls up on top of her head. "I know he's older than I am, just like Alice is, but I think of them all as my kids. After all, I'm the only one of us to get past thirty." She faces me and cups my cheeks. "That's why I'm glad he found you. You brought my son back."

"And you don't mind that he's friends with a human?"

"No," she says thoughtfully. "I know it will all work out, one way or another. Besides, I have a gut feeling that your relationship may change." Her brow raises, but before I can ask what she means, thunder roars overhead, and she is done talking. We've reached first base, and Edward is ready to strike whatever Alice throws at him.

"Batter up," Esme calls in a soft, clear voice that reaches the ears of everyone, even though the ones standing on bases look like blurry sticks to me.

Alice stands straight, holding the ball in both hands at her waist. She stands still for a solid minute and then, without warning, her right hand flicks the ball out and it lands in Esme's hand with a smack.

"Strike one!" I call out, sticking my tongue at Edward.

"Shut it, small-fry." He teases, readying himself as Esme makes the ball sail back to Alice. She grins for a moment and the ball goes soaring once again. Somehow, the bat follows through, smashing into the invisible ball with a shattering, thunderous crack, echoing into the mountains with an unnatural ring.

Well, at least I know that we won't completely melt into the storm. I cover my ears and wince, looking at the unaffected Esme. She takes one look at me and gasps.

"Shit!" She vanishes and returns with a set of ear covers that make her voice muffle slightly. "Sorry about that, honey. We came prepared, but my brain still registers you as one of us." I watch the wall shoot like a meteor about the field until it vanishes into the forest. Edward takes off around the massive diamond, the others going after the ball.

"Home run?" I ask Esme, and she shrugs.

"Chances are, yes. They already have the ball, but it hit the ground. And Edward is extremely fast." Dust flies at us and Esme covers my eyes with her hand. Laughter erupts and Esme lets me see Edward, one foot just inches away from the base, with Jasper shoving the ball onto his cheek. "Call it, Bella."

"You're out, pretty boy!" He stands, pushing Jasper away and flicking the bird, a smile on both their faces.

"Aww, she thinks you're pretty. Pronto ella le besará y usted vivirá felizmente alguna vez después."

"Vaya al diablo, Jasper." He trades spots with the teasing blonde, Jasper flipping the bat in the air and readying himself for a left-handed swing. Every strike of the bat, I see Alice peak towards the forest, and Carlisle tense in preparation.  
And yet, knowing our mission, we all have fun with it. The crashing of the bat and the occasional thunderous strike of body against body, mostly Rosalie or Jasper purposefully running into Edward, I can't help but wonder if there is a bit of a power play at hand. If they can be so forceful with each other, how much damage can they do to an enemy?

"Safe," Esme says to Emmett's face, planted on the now destroyed home plate. I reach down and dust off his shoulders, earning a playful scowl when he stands.

"Hopefully they get here soon, Carlisle keeps cursing at us in some weird Scottish slang."

"I'm gon' ta skelp yer wee behind!" the good doctor cries, throwing the ball back home, Emmett catching it with ease.

"One thing's for sure, I'll never be able to sit through dull old Major League Baseball again," I say, nudging Esme. "I may even get my dad to come out here to gawk. He's a much bigger fan than I am."

"I agree, I'd love to see his face when Carlisle sends the ball three miles out." She shakes her head, watching Edward gain two bases before Emmett can even get the ball back in play. "I've actually got the best arm, but I knocked Jasper's jaw off once, and only he ever mentally recovered from it."

"Seriously?" I look Esme over, her stature and demeanor not at all reflecting the strength that would have taken. Then again... hell hath no fury. "That's amazing."

"All in a day's work for Esme Ann Cullen." She wiggles her shoulders and her head snaps toward the forest, eyes wide. "Footsteps."

Instantly, Edward is at my side, pulling at his hoodie. "Take it off. Our sounds got their attention, but we need your scent exposed." He pauses for a second and sighs. "I wish there was a less creepy way to phrase that." He takes the jacket and ties it around his waist, fluffing my hair almost painfully fast. "Alright, once they show, the predatory one should out himself quickly. Just stay back with me, the mixed scents will throw him off for a while."

"Hey," I grab his hands, holding them steady while he breathes and calms his nerves, "we've got this. Far as I know, only one of them will give us trouble. And if the other two do, we'll kick their asses too."

"Esme, switch with Alice," Carlisle breathes, taking the bat. "If anything, you can knock one out with the ball if it comes to a fight. Everyone else, keep playing like normal. If they want to play, then we'll let them. We're only after _one_."

Edward and I stay off the field, his arm pressing me to his side, right as three shadows emerge from the foliage.


	19. Tying Loose Ends

They emerge one by one, my eyes searching intently for the blonde vampire that attacked me. That went after Alice. The first to emerge is a tall, dark-skinned man, his white shirt blowing in the wind, and tight curls haloing his head. At his side is a small, smiling woman with startling red hair — wild and flowing. She looks over her shoulders, her laughter whispering through the breeze as _he _appears.

James rushes to her, lifting her in the air and kissing her cheek almost tenderly. They cautiously approach the coven, the woman visually anxious, her back nearly meeting James' chest. It is almost like they haven't interacted with others of their own kind in ages.

Their movements are distinct from the others'. They aren't even trying to fake human — their limbs move fluidly, and legs are bent slightly, ready to pounce on anything that calls to them. And James, oh devilish James, his fingers twitch with anticipation. The tallest man's shirt contrasts his skin tone starkly, but his strange affinity for dress clothes covered in dirt and blood is almost normal next to the woman's torn clothing and James' choice to keep the torn, blue shirt that Charlie ripped to shreds with his pistol. The big difference? His hair. He cut it, it's shaved down to the scalp.

And his face, once the woman isn't looking at him, is stone.

While the woman picks leaves from her hair, the tall, dark-skinned man approaches Carlisle with a wide, friendly smile. His lean, muscular build visible even from the distance I'm at. And when he smiles, to my surprise, his fangs aren't nearly as pronounced as Edward's were when I saw his true face. He rakes his glossy black curls from his face, looking down at the red-haired woman with a raised brow.

She stands at his right hand; her posture better fitting a cat than a human. She looks around frantically, curiously, tugging on his arm and pointing at Rosalie and Esme and even at me, apparently unaware of my human status. James stays behind her, hand protectively — no, _possessively_ — on her shoulder. He stays still, eyes locked on Carlisle and his casual approach.

With twenty glowing red eyes around me, I press closer to Edward's side as the leader of the nomads opens his mouth.

"We thought we heard a game," he says with a thick French accent. "Victoria is a massive baseball fan," he gestures to the small woman, whose nose scrunches when she smiles. "I am Laurent, and sourpuss back here is James." James nods stiffly, Carlisle returning the gesture with a friendlier air.

"A pleasure, monsieur. I'm Carlisle Cullen, and this is my family. Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, Esme, Edward, Alice, and Bella." He waves his hand over us, letting the newcomers assume who is who. My stomach churns when he mentions my name, and from the corner of my eye, I notice Alice hiding just a bit behind Jasper's body.

"Such a large group!" Victoria says with a chuckle. "How in the world do you keep from tearing each other apart?"

"That's the miracle work of my son," he says as Jasper appears at his side. "Jasper is the master of keeping us calm. Would you like a demonstration?"

"Yes!"

"_No_," James snaps, and Victoria flinches, pulling back. No one misses that, but anything off script risks James running off before we can kill him. Patience, Bella...

"Maybe another time," Laurent offers, glaring down at James. "We were on our way to Canada when we heard you through the coast. It's been a while since we've seen others. We got curious. And Victoria is impossible to live with when she wants to investigate something."

"I'm honestly surprised to see anyone out here myself," Carlisle nudges Jasper, who nods. "We are the only ones who stay in this region, and nomads are difficult to come by nowadays."

I feel the air shift; the mood changing from tense curiosity to a simple, casual, normal conversation. I look at Jasper and my lip twitches in a smile. Clever move, cowboy.

"What's your range? We will be careful around it."

Carlisle waves off the assumption right under Laurent's words. "The Olympic range is where we stay, and just in Alaska is another permanent residence belonging to the Denalis. They stay out of sight completely, though. Best of luck finding them."

Laurent and Victoria exchange a look, her back straightening. "Permanent? You mean, you don't travel? What about the humans?"

"I'd be happy to explain at the house, if you're interested. We were ending our game anyway, and it's a lot more comfortable around the fireplace." Even James shows shock on his face when Carlisle mentions having a house. Laurent smiles fondly.

"That sounds ... wonderful. And a lot better than resting in trees or hollows. And, if it's alright, might we get cleaned up a bit?" He nods to their tattered, stained clothing. "It's been about a month since we last got blasted with a hose."

"I call dibs on holding the power washer!" Emmett pipes up, earning a slap on the head from Rosalie.

"Haha! I like your — what, son? — already." Laurent looks at the others and nods, showing that they'll go with Carlisle and the others to the house. Edward leans down and presses his lips to my ear.

"Now would be a splendid opportunity to weed him out. Which one?"

"James," I fluff out my hair, stepping away from Edward so my shirt, my scent, can be caught by the flowing breeze.

"And, if it's alright, we'd ask that you not hunt in our territory." Carlisle says tentatively, clasping his hands together. "We're trying to stay incognito, you understand."

"Oh, of course! We'd never risk exposure. Besides, we already ate."

"I could _always _go for a bite," James comments, flashing his teeth and playfully biting at Victoria's neck. She giggles and bats him away, her cheeks turning a light pink. I fix my shirt just in time to see James' eyes turn to me.

Three things happen simultaneously. James' face floods with recognition, and the lust that I cannot — or will not — place returns to his eyes. Laurent and Victoria turn rigid, realizing that not everything is what they assumed. And Edward growls deeply, hands cracking as his claws willingly emerge.

"What's this?" Laurent looks at Carlisle with wide, surprised eyes. "A human?" Carlisle lays a hand on his shoulder and states calmly.

"She is with us, our friend." He looks at James, his face taking on a dangerous statue quality. "And he tried to kill her." Laurent and Victoria look at me with wide, confused eyes. Then Laurent turns his confusion to anger at James. He catches him before James can lunge forward and slams him into the dirt.

"James, what the hell did you do?" He looks at me, brows furrowed guiltily. "Even under her scent, you can tell she's around vampires. You could have killed us all. She's not even a remarkable _looking_ human." Edward scoffs at that.

"I don't care about how she looks, Laurent," James licks his lips, eyes locked on me, "it's what she can do. No human deserves that power. And since she can fight back, it makes the hunt so much more delicious."

"Fight back?" Victoria questions, looking at the brace around my wrist.

"Enough, James. She is not ours, and she is not _yours_. Leave it be." Laurent faces Carlisle and lowers his head, hand over his chest. "My apologies, it seems we have a lot to learn about each other."

"Indeed. But I'm afraid we can't just let him go after what he's done. Surely you understand." Carlisle says coolly, an unusual edge to his voice. "Her father is the police chief, and he nearly killed him. He risked the exposure of us all with his little adventure."

"No, please!" Victoria grabs Carlisle by the arm, looking around at us all. "Please, don't... I love him, he's my mate. Please, can't we talk this out. Why do you even care so much about the humans, anyway?"

"Victoria, it's one human girl. We won't touch her. And we won't go after any humans while we're in your range. Vous avez ma parole."

Carlisle measures Laurent's expression for a moment. "You and Victoria can come with us. As for James ... I'm sorry."

"At the least, wait until Victoria and I have gone. I'd rather not see it, and I know she feels the same." Laurent moves away from James, taking Victoria by the arm. He says something to her softly, and her face floods with tears.

"You can come with us," Esme gestures to herself, Alice, and Emmett. "We've got clothes you two can fit into." She approaches Victoria and cups her cheek, her warmth and kindness helping the other woman calm down a bit. Jasper and Rosalie swap places with the emotional nomads, gripping James by the arms and holding him down.

This entire situation strikes me as odd. By Edward's face and Alice's compliance, neither of them see anything bad coming. They make their choices, their thoughts are in order. But I can't help but feel that this is completely out of character for James. Because in my dream, he didn't hold back.

In my dream, his rage and possessiveness were uncontrolled. His eyes, locked on me, show a horrific level of self-control. He isn't like my mind showed him. I feel sparks fly from my hands, my body rooted to the ground, eyes checking for even a millimeter of change in his body language.

Edward approaches him, jaw unhinging in a show of dominance. James tore the doctor's head off his shoulder. What is Edward, with his lion-like jaws and crystalline claws, planning on doing to James? Tearing his head off? Ripping him limb-from-limb?

Too easy.

And to my horror, it all happens in slow motion. Edward's eyes nearly pop from his skull as James tears Rosalie to the ground, cracks Jasper's jaw, and guns it to the forest with the trees shaking from the force of his speed. Before I can blink, I'm in Emmett's jeep, strapped down in the front seat.

"What just happened?" Rosalie demands from beside me, holding her arm to her chest. "He nearly ripped my damn arm off! How did you not see that coming, Edward?"

"His mind changed before I could even hear. It's like this is some kind of game to him. I'm sure Alice will call any second to tell us where he's going next." As if on cue, his phone rings. "Hey! What? So, what should...? Oh... oh no.."

"I don't like this at all," Jasper says from the front seat, leaning on his fist. "So, what, he changes his mind too quickly? Is that what she's saying?"

"That's what I understood," Edward says, only barely managing not to crush his phone in his hands. "He's gone into a zone of sorts, and knowing that Bella is friends with vampires seems to have heightened this for him. We need to get Bella underground and hunt him."

"Uh, no!" I lean forward and hit the back of Edward's headrest, deserving the snarl he sends back at me. "You're not hiding me like I'm some relic. If he's after me, he could find anyone I've interacted with just by my scent. No, we need to think ahead. Were any of you hunters in your human lives?"

"Emmett was!" Rosalie says, pulling out her phone. Emmett doesn't reply, making her entire body go rigid.

"And so was I. Or, well, a vaquero, but it still counts." C-cowboy? Oh lord, I'll have to ask him about that later. "If he's using your scent, then we could use deer hunting techniques. Spread Bella's scent around to confuse him while we hone in on his location. It's basically the opposite of what you'd want to happen while spraying deer piss on your clothes."

"Thank God I grew up in Chicago..." Edward checks the street before gunning it. "At least Charlie is safe. Carlisle says his hiding place is so far out of the way he barely found it. And there is no trace of Bella there."

"But there are traces at Jessica's house. And he _likes_ young girls, I think he'd even prefer if I were younger," I shiver, remembering how furious he was at losing the chance to change or kill Alice. "We need to make sure he doesn't think to go there. Take me home."

"He'll go there before anywhere else, Bella!" Edward snaps, his teeth making a loud clicking sound.

"_Exactly_. If I get there and make it seem like there's no reason I'd be at her house, then he'll avoid her completely to get to me." I pull out my phone and start texting Jess, knowing I won't make a lick of sense to her.

Me: Jess, I'm going to call you in about twenty minutes. Play along with what I say, tell Angela about it too. Nothing that I'll say is true, I promise.

Jess: _is typing_

Jess: Bella, what's going on?

Me: I can't say. Just wait for me to call, be in your room when you see my name pop up. And trust me.

Jess: ... okay. I trust you, Bella. But you better explain.

Me: As much as I possibly can.

Rosalie leans up and flicks Edward on the ear. "Hey, pull over. Bella looks pale."

"She always looks pale, Rose."

"Smartass, I think she's going to puke!"

"I'm not," I curl up a bit and press my forehead to my knees. "I'm just thinking. But... thanks, Rosalie. Edward, when is he going to start? Can Alice see that, at least?"

"He'll start once the sun is fully down. He likes the darkness, it keeps him hidden." The steering wheel cracks in his palms. "If he thinks he can even get _close _to you..."

"Edward, he won't. And if he does, he's no match for you three."

"Unless the woman and the leader join him, then we'll have a bit of an issue," Jasper reasons, and I kick the back of his seat. "Hey!"

"Thanks for the morale boost..." I grumble, watching us get further into town and closer to my house. I'm betting on James checking my house out, especially while I'm there. We can try to misdirect him, make sure he stays as far away from people as possible. And ... I think I know the perfect place to drive him toward.

"Do we have any other options?" Rosalie asks, straightening in her seat. "Let's at least consider them for a second."

Edward slams on the breaks, making me grateful that I'm strapped in like a toddler.

"Dammit Rose, there are no options here!"

"I will not risk him attacking our friends." I state flatly, "you're taking me to my house, I'm packing a bag, and we'll go from there. You just have to trust me. He's no match for all of us, he has to realize that at some level. And if he goes for the others, at least Victoria will fight with him. We'll just have to play it by ear," I decide, looking distantly out the window. "Whatever happens to me, just make sure James dies. Okay?" Edward's eyes lock on me in the mirror and he growls softly.

"Jasper... give me something."

"She's thought this out quickly, and like all other plans, there's always the chance for a flub. But as of right now, it's all we have. And it's the best chance of getting him somewhere familiar." He turns and looks at me. "Where are you luring him?"

"My great-grandma's cabin. He'll know where it is, so he can get there while we set a trap for him." I puff my chest out proudly, and Jasper nods.

"Better than nothing."

We pull up to the house, a few lights on to my surprise. I guess Charlie doesn't want people to think we abandoned the house. His cruiser is even here. Edward parks behind my truck, his head checking around quickly, checking every shadow and scent, just in case something is off. The engine cuts, and we sit motionless for a solid minute.

"He isn't here," Edward says softly. "But his scent is on the wind. Whatever you're planning on, do it now." Rosalie helps me unbuckle and ruffles my hair.

"You can do this, sweetie." She squeezes my hand reassuringly and nods her angelic face in a soft, fearful smile. I mirror her and take in a deep breath. "One of us will be here in just a few minutes to fetch you, before he has the chance to sneak up. I promise."

"I trust you." I look at her, Jasper, and Edward, feeling tears sting the corners of my eyes. Every plan is flawless until it's time to be executed. Not knowing if I'll ever see them again, I take in every little detail — from the scar over Jasper's lip to Rosalie's beauty mark and Edward's hollow eyes — and let out a breath.

"You have fifteen minutes max to pack a bag and get in the cruiser," Edward says, facing forward, hands locked on the steering wheel. It's a warning. Any longer, and everything could fall apart. I sniff and wipe my eyes, opening my door and sliding out.

My voice comes out at a volume unfamiliar to me. A scream, a shriek, a _roar_. Faux fury directed dead at Edward. "I _never_ want to see you again, Cullen! You fucking _freak_, you nearly got me _killed_!" I kick the tire and storm into the house, pulling out my phone and hitting Jessica's contact.

"Bella...?" She answers with a hesitant whisper.

"I'm done, Jess. I'm leaving Forks." I say between sniffles and sobs. I race up the stairs, catching myself on the railing before barging into the bathroom. I gather hygiene products to stuff in my backpack while Jessica stammers over her reply.

Wouldn't it be so fitting if my period showed up during all this?

"You're what? Wh-why? Is everything okay?"

"No, it's not!" I grab my backpack and empty it of everything school related, save my little black notebook. I put them in a smaller pocket and gather up clothes, keys, money — anything and everything I could need. "It's so sick of it here. Of the rain, of the clouds, of the people...there's no way I can stay here another school year."

"... people...? Bella, what happened?"

"Edward! Edward happened, okay? He waltzes into my shitty life and just turns it all to Hell." I look around and go down the hallway to Charlie's room, grabbing his bomber jacket and zipping it to my chin. It smells like his cologne. Like comfort. I nuzzle into it, tears falling faster down my cheeks. "This place is horrible enough without me having a damn _stalker_."

You know what? That isn't a total lie.

"Stalking! Bella, why didn't you tell me sooner? Or your dad? You don't have to leave Forks because of one asshole who can't read between the lines!" She's frantic now, panting softly with shuffling in the background. She covers the microphone, but I hear her tell her mom she doesn't care if it's time for dinner and that she needs the car keys. My breath catches in my throat and I zip my bag up.

"It isn't just him, Jess. My mom was right, this place is just ... I can't risk putting down any more roots here. Not Edward, not you and Angela and Eric ... I can't stay here. I don't want to be trapped in this boring, stupid, dead-end town like my dad!" I grip my hair and start down the stairs, turning off every light I come across. "I'm not making the same idiotic mistake he did. I'm escaping, like Mom. I will not stay here for another damn minute!"

"Bella, it's past sundown, there are curfews for teenage drivers." Jessica tries to reason, her crying audible through her stuffy, difficult speaking. "Come to my house, stay the night. Stay a week, I don't care. If it's about what you said at school, we can get the adults involved, we can keep you safe... please, please come here."

"Just let me go, Jess. My dad already has. It didn't work out. I _hate_ it here. Nothing and no-one is going to change that." I hang up on her, letting my words sink into the slamming of the front door. I look at the cruiser, wiping my cheeks and taking a seat on the passenger side.

Edward ignites the engine and I cling to my bag, pulling the collar of Charlie's jacket up to mimic his rare, comforting hugs. His cool hand lies on my arm, and my hand slides over it as my body trembles, hiccups and sobs finally escaping my throat. I hate this. I hate every second of this. Even without Edward's touch, my skin feels like splintering ice. We have to pass Jessica's house to leave the town. I can't even look up.

Edward sighs. "She wants to talk to her mom, but she keeps reminding herself of the text you sent, and what you talked about in school. She's texting Angela, though she still doesn't know how to explain...you called me a stalker?"

"I didn't know what else to say..." I grip his hand tightly. "Where is he?"

"Right behind us. He didn't see you get in the passenger seat, and he doesn't seem to be aware of me. Though, from the smell of it, I'd be impressed if he detected either of us," I look up in time to see him hold a half-empty pouch of tobacco. "And as for your little play, he heard pretty well all of it. He's focused on you, not on Jessica, or anyone else with your scent." He accelerates, the cruiser revving in excitement.

"It's Emmett," Edward says a millisecond before a loud thud hits the trunk of the car. I watch Emmett settle in, leaning on the window. "He's listening for James. Apparently, we're needed at the house. At the least, we'll be safe enough there to plan further ahead. James won't go where there are more vampires than he knows he can handle."

I nod, laying my head back on my backpack. Edward's cool hands brush through my hair, gently taking my glasses off my face.

"Don't want to hurt them, or your nose."

"I'm a terrible person..."

"What...? Bella, it was an act. Even Jessica knows it was. You didn't mean a word of it."

"If you had asked me just a couple months ago, I would have said the same thing. It's...God, I don't want to sound like a dick, but it's how my mom described Forks to me. Boring. Stupid. Stuck. Oppressive. Using her own words, even as a precaution, made my stomach churn."

"And it stuck with him. Now he thinks no one human will be looking for you. He's focused on you. I know you said he likes them young, but ... every time I dig for the trigger that set him off, your face morphs with Alice's. It's like he sees you two as the same."

"..." I lean back, closing my eyes. My mind goes through his comments on my youth, on how girls keep getting prettier. His possessive body language, as though I belonged to him from the moment he spotted me in the forest. James's handsome, ethereal face shatters into fury and disgust when he realized that the doctor changed Alice before he could stake his claim.

When did he see her?

How long was he watching her? Did he wait until she was a teenager on purpose? What kind of hunter goes for the cowering, injured fawn that can't even defend herself?

A piss-poor shot. That's who.

"What if the thrill of the chase isn't the only thing he enjoys?" I offer, opening my eyes and watching the rain dance on the windshield. "What if it's the kill itself? How easy is it to kill a human? Especially as a vampire. He's just another serial killer too cowardly to pick on someone his own size."

Edward slows to a stop, and I look up, spotting the Cullen house just a few feet away. He parks and kills the truck, holding his fingers at his lips, letting out a deep breath. He blinks a couple times, acknowledges Emmett knocking on the window and saying we need to go in, and then looks at me.

"Just this once, Bella ... I hope your intuition is wrong."


	20. He Never Came Home

"He's tracking us," Edward states upon entering the house. Everyone is standing around Laurent, the red-headed Victoria nowhere in sight. He rubs his temples, shoulders sagging.

"I was afraid of that," the gravelly voiced Frenchman says, eyes closed tight. "I have never seen him react to a human like that before. Not even one he wanted to kill. How does he know you?"

"I uh ... might have run into him a couple days ago. My dad shot his shoulder off." Laurent's eyes go wide.

"Wait! That was you? The witch?" He laughs, holding his stomach. "Ah, jolie petite fille, your father is the one James truly wants then. It is unheard of for a human to injure a vampire so severely. What manner of gun does he have?"

"I honestly don't know...I know it's custom, but he doesn't let me around it." Laurent nods thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "I can honestly only assume the bullets are made of something hard enough to break vampire skin. Maybe diamond?"

"That could work... this is just remarkable. But, all the same, you must kill James now. If there was a chance for his survival, it disappeared when he realized who this girl is. Her father insulted him from his ranting, and so he wants his revenge. If it means killing a child, so be it. It wouldn't be the first time he took his ... affections for a young woman too far, anyway."

Immediately, Alice appears, clinging to Jasper's side and whispering at the speed of sound in his ear. They both set down a couple duffel bags and go back up the stairs, earning a look of confusion from Rosalie.

"What will he do?" Carlisle asked Laurent, his face and voice hard.

"Chances are, he's wanting to draw the father out. I cannot stop his hunt, nothing can. He is unlike anything I have ever seen, and I've been around for a few centuries." Laurent looks at me, approaching slowly. "But I believe you might be the one weakness he has. You struck him down before your father critically injured him. That was a strike to his pride. And he cannot control his actions when he's enraged. He might ... slip-up. Though, you will have to decide if you're okay with an unlife, should it come to that."

Carlisle looks at Edward and raises his hand. I glance to find Edward's claws back out, his fangs visible. A warning — _keep away_. His growl echoes through the room, and Laurent takes one step backward.

"Your way of life is interesting, but I don't think it is wise for me to stick around. James may try to use me against you. And I have no qualms with this coven." He looks at Esme. "You said your allies, the Denali, might take me in?"

"If you're truly wanting to change..." she starts.

"Then I will go to them. I wish you all the best of luck. Adieu."

Carlisle steps forward and bows slightly, "Go in peace." A solid minute passes after Laurent vanishes out the door, and Carlisle turns to Edward. "Is he still near?"

"He's rendezvoused with Victoria, three miles past the river. But now that we know there is a definite risk to Charlie, we have to warn him." My phone is out in an instant, his number dialed and tone ringing out to the room.

"You've reached Chief Charles Swan. I can't make it to the phone right now, but if you'll leave a name and num—" I hang up, brows furrowed.

"He ... he always picks up for me. He's answered my texts at 4 in the morning before."

"We need someone to run out to Charlie's hide-out, then." Carlisle volunteers, grabbing a passing Emmett. "You're with me on this."

"No problem."

"What about Bella?" Edward goes to Carlisle, hiding his claws to grab the elder vampire's arm. "She's still in danger."

"Go forward with her plan. Use her to draw James out in a place she knows. It's all we have right now, unless Alice sees something different."

"I do," Alice floats down the stairs with Jasper in hand. "If we take Bella somewhere close by, he'll flank us. And considering how fast his mind changes, no one will see exactly where until he's on us. But, if we take Bella away from Forks, he'll have a dilemma. Go for the easy kill, or go for the vampire hunter. He still prefers to kill Bella to hurt Charlie."

"We're running her south," Jasper cuts in, pulling both bags onto his shoulders. "Not too far. Rural California would be safest for all involved. McCloud is a hiking destination during warmer weather, so there will be cabins, places we can hide-out."

"I've got us lodging reserved, we can be there in just under a day. But we have to go now. Make sure James can smell her." Alice pulls on one of my flannels and giggles softly, flapping her arms in the sleeves. "Heh, this is huge on me." I look right at Jasper, who shakes his head.

"Uh-uh, I've got this," he pulls out one of my beanies and hides his hair in it. "Your clothes are puny on me, chica. Also, please change shampoos. Strawberry is a little overwhelming."

"Stop wearing my hats, and you won't have to smell it." Jasper makes a fist and shakes it at me, handing me a duffel. "C'mon, we'd better get going if he's to take the bait. Everyone needs to scatter to monitor the bastard. And Edward," he points directly at the trembling red-head, "Keep Alice and I updated every second. Okay?"

He stiffens, but nods. "Alright... I can do that."

"Alright, autobots!" Jasper raises his voice, and Edward growls. "Roll out!"

"Esme, Rose, take the truck. The girl will follow that while James follows us." Alice calls to the other two, and they hop on in. "Don't worry, Bella, they won't crash it."

"That's... reassuring." I go for the car Jasper is leading me to when Edward appears by my side, pulling me tight against his chest. It isn't painful, not until we squeeze my broken arm between us. I squeak and look up at him. "Go, I'll be okay."

He meets my gaze, his eyes hollow, and with a soft sigh he turns away, vanishing into the forest with Carlisle.

Alice pulls me to her, guiding me to the car while tears slowly trickle down my cheeks. The three of us sit in the car silently, as if waiting for something. Esme and Rosalie start down the driveway and out of sight. Then Alice nudges Jasper.

"Now. Edward says the woman is on Esme's trail, we can pull James away from her." He starts the car and does exactly what I didn't expect. Goes a relatively normal speed out of the woods and onto the road, southward bound. I rub my eyes, taking my glasses off and setting them in the cupholder.

A soft conversation happens in the front seat before Jasper captures my attention by saying my name.

"Bella, stop that."

"What...?" I ask, catching a yawn in my throat.

"You're feeling it again. But you're wrong, like before. You shouldn't feel worthless, or guilty." He chuckles and meets my eyes in the mirror. "It's amazing, really. Your mind is impenetrable, but your emotions radiate off you like rays from the sun. It never ceases to amaze me just how ... scared you always are, but never for yourself."

_Why should I be_? I ask myself, curling up against the door. If I die, then I die. What matters is that everyone else is safe. All I can do now is close my eyes and hope for the best.

It's always confusing to wake up somewhere that _isn't _your bedroom. But a hotel room that's stylized to look like a log-cabin in the middle of northern California is especially trying to adjust to first thing in the morning. I slowly remember the little black car, Jasper's words, and the real threat right on our tails.

Sleep had evaded me for hours, my eyes aching and straining through the morning light to nightfall, and finally sealed once I saw a "Leaving Washington State" sign somewhere along the line. I sit up and instantly check my phone. No texts from the girls, or Charlie, or Edward. Every blink between my blinding phone screen and me finding my glasses is a nightmare. If Charlie isn't contacting me, what did Carlisle find in his cabin? What don't I know? Has James already slaughtered the one family member who understands?

"Hey, finally awake." I look over at Alice, sitting on the headboard above Jasper's sleeping body. "Stay quiet if you can, he doesn't normally go this long without nightmares." She glides over to my bed, sitting cross-legged beside me in her nightgown. "Edward called while you were asleep, said that ... that Charlie was nowhere to be found when they got to his hiding place. But — " she raises her hands, catching my glasses before they hit my lap, " — that means nothing bad. He didn't smell James, and there were no signs of Charlie's car. Maybe he went somewhere else to be safe."

"You can't check?" I prod, putting on my eyes. Alice scratches her head and shrugs.

"Charlie is kinda like you ... I can't see your decisions, so I can't see your future. Jasper's been the only one of us to have any influence on either of you. Edward even has problems reading his mind occasionally."

"Ah, I see. Thanks anyway, Alice." I bite my lip and take her hand, squeezing gently. "I know this can't be easy on you, seeing James again." She looks me in the eyes, mouth agape. "How did you escape him the first time?" And like that, she knows.

"You really are a witch, aren't you?" She asks, looking at the gemstone that never leaves my neck. "After he killed the doctor, I couldn't move. He was so furious. I could tell he didn't know what to do. He had thoughts of killing me, but that would have ended in him being killed by me. He wanted to slaughter the hospital, but then the Volturi would have ... in his confusion, I ran. I ran until my thirst overpowered me, and I collapsed."

"That's when I found her," Jasper's voice makes me jump, despite it being slurred and low from sleep. "I could feel her hunger and confusion from a small town nearby. I'd never met someone with such powerful emotions." He sits up, pulling his hair from his face, which is somber and soft. "I raised her, essentially. Made sure she got fed, clothed, and knew the rules of this life. In return, she taught me to be a quote 'vegetarian' vampire because she already knew where our path would lead us."

"Right into the arms of Carlisle Cullen," she finishes, rocking in place. "And on a grand adventure."

"You have a demented definition of adventure, Alice." I slide from the bed, stretching my back until the bones pop. The red glare of the clock states it's five in the morning, and my stomach awakens with a low rumble. Alice goes straight to the phone and orders room service, finding more vegetarian options than I ever imagined for a tourist trap.

"We'll have to stay inside until tonight, and then we'll lure him into the forest when it gets dark."

Jasper turns the TV on and flicks around until a cartoon comes on. He and Alice sit side-by-side, only moving when my food arrives to collect it for me. I eat slowly, not paying attention to the show, but to Alice's ever-changing expressions.

Panic.

Content.

Relief.

Fear.

Horror.

Confusion.

All within a few seconds, I see a full spectrum of futures. And so far, I only survive one or two. Then she grimaces and looks down. I push the now empty plate away and look over at Alice.

"Hey, you okay, Alice?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Her eyes are wide, honest. But I don't trust them.

"Are we waiting for something other than nightfall?"

"Carlisle will call with an update on James' location soon. The family will contact us when they have something to say, that's the rule-of-thumb." I nod, my hands starting to tremble. I reach for Edward on instinct, only to remember as I clutch empty bed sheets that he's somewhere else. Risking his life for me.

This isn't fair on any of them...

A million thoughts race through me. What if they lose contact with us? With each other? If something happened to Esme, Carlisle, Rosalie ... Edward ... and if Victoria were to figure the trick out, would she flank them? Will they spot her soon enough? And we still don't know where my dad even is...

Can I live with myself is something happens to them? I don't deserve all these people trying to save my life. There has to be another way. My fingers tingle, making every hair on my body stand up.

"_Isabella_, I will come over there and wrap you in a burrito of happiness if you don't start focusing on your emotions." I meet Jasper's intense, worried glare with wide eyes. Fuck, right. Thank the lord that Edward isn't an in-tune to my thoughts as Jasper is. "Try to find a positive here, don't be afraid for anyone. We're doing this because we don't want to lose you. We as in the entire coven _and_ your dad _and_ the Blacks _and_ our friends at school."

"Besides, you're the first person to draw Edward out of himself. And I've known him for decades. Carlisle can tell you how he was before he met you," Alice shakes her head, recalling the times. "I don't think you know the impact you've had on all of us, on Forks. I honestly don't think I could look him in the eyes if he were to lose you. You're his world."

That adds a lot of weight to my shoulders, though I can feel Jasper trying to make me feel better internally. I put on a smile, remembering to wrinkle around my eyes, and watch the window as the light slowly rises to its peak.

So far, Alice and Jasper have handled the mini quarantine of ours better than I have. I pace, fidget, write in my journal, and go to the living room of our lodgings after the fifth hour of SpongeBob.

I keep writing to Edward in my journal. Telling him my thoughts and emotions, getting them out of me without triggering Jasper's near-paternal instinct. I wonder if that's his relationship with Alice, and I even write that down to ask Edward later. He does seem a lot older than the others — save Carlisle, who is literally ancient — especially in his eyes. Maybe his role in the family is deeper than it seems.

"Alice?" I ask around 1 in the afternoon. She's in the living room with me, laying on the back of the couch and looking at the ceiling absently.

"Yeah?"

"What are they doing?" I hear her take a breath in.

"Edward wants to forego using you as bait and rip James to shreds as soon as he spots him. Esme and Rose are looking for your dad, who hasn't gotten a hold of them yet." I look at the undelivered texts to Charlie I sent, stomach turning to lead. "And Carlisle is messing with the hunter's head, making small noises just downwind enough to keep him from being located." Her hand plays with the longer parts of my hair. "I'm honestly going on a 'no news is good news' basis."

I close my eyes and lean back on the couch, hearing Jasper leave the bedroom and groan.

"Okay, that's it. I am getting cabin fever and am craving something salty. Will it mess anything up if I go to a gas station and get some Funyuns and beef jerky?"

"It'll only mess up your breath." We both make a sound of disgust and Jasper points at us both.

"Just for that, I won't get either of you a snack."

"If I tell you your hair is prettier than Rosalie's, will you get me a couple energy drinks?" I bat my eyes, tongue sticking out.

"... dammit, she got me. Just for that, you also get a Snickers bar." He pulls up his hood and slides on a pair of sunglasses before leaving the lodge.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Rosalie what you said." Alice giggles, sliding down to sit beside me.

"You, I trust. Him? He's gonna brag. Uh ... tell me when he can't hear us."

Ten minutes pass by.

"Okay, we're good. He's gonna take his time to stake out the area."

"Awesome. Awesome. Um ... I have a question, and you may not like it." She simply sits and waits. "How does it work? Becoming a vampire?" Her smile falls, and she sits quietly. My question must have taken her off guard, her eyes dart around like someone searching for the answers themselves.

"Edward doesn't want me to tell you that," she says finally.

"Why not?"

"He won't tell me. But it doesn't seem right to me."

I watch her, waiting, knowing her urge to tell me is stronger than Edward's desire to keep it from me.

"He doesn't even have to know. This is between you and me. It's honestly just curiosity. Becoming a vampire, at least at 17, is terrifying to me."

She looks at me with her gleaming, wise eyes, pained and choosing.

"Okay, I'll tell you. It'll be mostly theory, I can't really remember my transformation too well. At least not actively. That's just me, though. Carlisle can explain it in more detail in the future if you'd want. Being the older vampire, he's got better words to describe it, anyway."

I wait, watching her figure out how to say it.

"You know we're predators. We have weapons, more than is necessary. Strength, speed, acute senses. And then some of us have sixth senses, like Edward, Jasper, and I. And like a carnivorous flower, we're able to attract prey with a glance." I remember the moment in the meadow where Edward, even in his horrifying true form, could draw me in. Alice's lips form an ominous smile, her fangs peeking out. "But we're more like spiders or snakes in this aspect. We're venomous."

"I ... really?"

"Here, watch." She hooks her finger under her fangs, an opalescent liquid dripping from their tips. "If you drink it, so long as there's no internal damage, nothing will happen. If it gets in your blood, there are only a few paths for it to take. You're weakened, you're killed, or you change. Though weakened in putting it lightly ... Edward told me, even though he was already dying, he was in enough pain from the venom just entering his neck, he almost screamed. Typically, it works out of your body. If your body is too weak to recover, it will kill you."

"But if neither of those happen, you change?"

"Yes. If your body is strong enough, and there is enough venom in you, slowly you'll become a vampire. It can take days, up to weeks. And the pain burns into your memory." She hugs herself and leans on my shoulder. "Like being set on fire from the inside. It changes your bones, your blood, your organs. Your brain. Eventually, the heart stops and restarts. But in that time, you'll feel yourself die, but the end never comes, no matter how much you pray for it."

Yeah, I definitely don't want to become a vampire.

"All of this depends on if the person survives being fed on in the first place, though. Even the scent of fresh blood sends most of us into a frenzy, it's almost impossible to bite the need down. And if the person is a Singer, then it's almost a guarantee they're going to die."

"You didn't..."

"Didn't die? Are you sure? I have a grave in Mississippi, a half-sister I never met, and a niece who doesn't know I ever existed. Mary Alice Brandon died in 1915, just like Edward Masen died in 1921. If Rosalie had her way, she'd be underground with her great-grandchildren, visiting her with lilies and kind words." Alice looks away, her eyes glazing over.

We're sitting in silence when Jasper returns, setting a can of Ultra Paradise on the coffee table in front of me. He's got crumbs in his beard, and he's bouncing like an excited child. "I drank four on the way in, I think I'm as close to Hell as I'll ever be."

"Jasper, you absolute moron," Alice laughs and throws a pillow at his head. He dodges it easily, still munching on his snack. "Your heart is going to explode if you're not careful."

He thumps his chest. "Solid crystal heart, chica."

Be it his powers or just the natural shift of the mood, we all laugh and enjoy the small stash that he bought. If it weren't for the cold air that always comes from their bodies, I'd think I was with two normal siblings. No vampires. No danger. Nothing to fear. Alice's laughter and Jasper's smile are just enough to get me to breathe easily.

And then Alice sits up straight, causing Jasper and I to jerk up in response. She looks around, grabbing the nearest sheet of paper and a pen. And then she scribbles, staring into space, her eyes looking around like she's taking in a new place.

"Something changed... a room. Nothing but mirrors, and a golden bar sticking out about waist height. He's just sitting there, with someone on the ground beside him. Panting. Angry. But I can't see who it is. He's just waiting..."

"Do you know where the room is?" Jasper asks, leaning in to look at her now readable drawing. I bite my tongue and let them continue. And then she draws an arch just over where James and the unknown person are, and it all clocks in for me.

"I can't tell. There's something missing, like he has to make another choice. But I can't see it." She closes her eyes and breathes in deep. "He's in the dark, watching a television, an old one. No ... running a VCR. He'll go to the mirror room soon, maybe in the next day or two. And the person is with him, but I can't see them. Only hear their breathing."

"He's going to elude everyone in Forks..." Jasper mumbles, covering his mouth. "He got past Edward too easily."

"Should we call someone?" I ask, my voice just over a whisper. Right then, Alice's phone rings, and she pounces it.

"Carlisle!" She nods, listening to the voice on the other end. "Yes." A glance at me, and then silence. "I just saw him. He got on a _plane_? Did Edward... he... he has? Oh, no..." Her eyes widen, and Jasper gasps, eavesdropping. "I-I'll let her know. Uh... he's going to a room full of mirrors. It looks so weird, almost like a ..."

"An old ballet studio." I blurt out, both of them snapping their heads toward me. "I uh ... I took lessons as a kid. Then I broke my leg, falling off the recital stage. That's also the year I got glasses." Ramble ramble, but that helps Alice from the relief on her face.

"... a ballet studio. Carlisle, she took lessons. Do you think? Yeah, yeah, okay. Bella?" She reaches her phone to me. I take the freezing block of plastic and hold it to my ear.

"Carlisle?"

"Not quite," Edward laughs.

"You're alright! Thank goodness, I was so worried..."

"Don't you worry about me, Bella. I'm not in danger here. I guess you already know we lost James' location. He stayed far enough away for me to miss most of his thoughts, save a handful of 'fucks'. He got on a plane in Vancouver, and Emmett is leading the others back to Forks to be sure he isn't retracing his steps."

"That's a good thought, I uh... I'm sorry, my words aren't working right now."

"They're going to shut down after this ... Bella, you dad is missing. Billy Black called it in. He missed every phone check-in and there are no traces of him in town or the surrounding forest. No one knows where he is. All his scent trails are too old to follow. I-I'm sorry, Bella." My heart drops to the floor and I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Here's Alice again..." I reach the phone in her direction, dropping it and pulling into myself on the couch. I'm frozen, I can't breathe. I hear air come in and out of me, too fast to be healthy, and the far-off conversation of Alice and Jasper.

Gone. He's gone. But he wouldn't just go. I look over at Alice's drawing, and my heart stops beating.

Long, rectangular. Wooden flooring. Lines that show the breaks in the mirrors and bars sticking out for the dancers to balance on. The bathrooms were in the back, in a smaller square section where the entrance is. And a window beside the door where you could see the waiting room.

And the shapes denoting James and the unknown hostage. My eyes widen in horror as the realization hits me.

I know where Charlie is.

"Bella, you said you took lessons as a kid," Jasper kneels beside me, a hand on my shoulder. My fear washes away, and I'm able to think. "Is this the same studio as before?"

"I ... no, I don't think so. It didn't have a TV on the wall, or golden bars. And the layout is —" exactly the same "— different. The doors are in different places. But like I said, I haven't danced in a decade. I don't think anyone even remembers that I used to."

_Little dancer_. Renee remembers. The studio was down the road from our house in Phoenix, I would walk there with her during my years there. If James is going there, then he found our records. He found my mom's old house. I've never been so thankful that she and Phil ran off to Jacksonville.

I lay on my side, curling up tight.

"We'll leave you alone for a while..." Alice covers me with a blanket, rubbing my arm like a concerned mother. "I'm sorry about your dad, but I'm sure we'll find him soon! He's one human, he can't go too far." With a soft kiss to my temple, she and Jasper go to the bedroom, chatting amongst themselves too softly and too quickly for me to understand.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out. I have to force down the scream that tries to come out of my throat.


	21. Schadenfreude

I force my fear down as I look at the photo on my screen. Charlie ... eye socket crushed, black and blue, with blood gushing from his nose. And James, with his sadistic little smile, taking a selfie while holding my dad's own gun to his temple.

_Don't let anyone know you've seen this, pet. Wait for my call._

I sit up and turn on the TV, hoping and praying that Alice and Jasper will need to leave soon. They'll hear him over the phone, they listen to each other's conversations all the time. I know that they would ruin any chances of Charlie being saved, no matter how good their intentions are. The day passes slowly, aching in every atom in my skin until I'm drinking the Monster not for the flavor, but to keep myself from falling to the floor.

I stand and pace, Jasper attempting to mellow my mood as the sun rises for a new day.

"Bella, it isn't healthy for you to stay awake for so long," he says, walking up to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. "I know you're scared for him, but we will find your father. No pendejo vampire is going to take down Chief Swan, anyway. I've seen him shoot the head off a newborn."

But James isn't a newborn. He's more skilled. More controlled. And he has my dad.

Alice emerges from the bedroom, strangely with a new outfit on. Overalls and a floral button up. Strange ensemble, but I give her credit for pulling it off. She draws, her brows furrowed. Jasper and I exchange a look before creeping to her side to watch it.

"Something new, Alice?"

"He's back in with the VCR, but I can see more of the room now." A square room with low ceilings appears from the mess of scribbles. Dark patterned carpet lay under paneled, out-of-date walls, and a massive window on the wall facing south. On the western wall is a door that leads to the living room, and from this perspective the TV and VCR balance on a small entertainment center in the corner. And the shape of a man, of James, reclined on the sofa curved in front of the TV.

He's in Phoenix. The house, empty but still in my mother's name, is hers. I keep myself from saying that as Alice and Jasper have a quiet, quick-lipped conversation. Then Jasper lays his hand on my shoulder, and instantly my body goes down, back on our own couch.

"Bella," Alice says slowly through the brain fog. "We're going to go back to Forks. Edward is going to meet us at the California border and will drive you up there. Once we're back, you and him are going to go somewhere completely out of the way until we can settle this mess."

"I ... no," I shake my head slowly, trying to sit up. Jasper's hand stays strong, and my arms give out. "No, I don't like this. I need to help. I can't just sit on the sidelines with everyone else fighting for me."

"Bella, you're the most in danger of all of us. It wouldn't be right of us to let you go on the frontline. Not anymore." She looks at Jasper, and a fog of lethargy crashes over me. My eyes close without my permission. I groan and force them open, sending Jasper back a couple feet away from me, nearly crashing into the wall.

"I don't _want_ to sleep, I don't _want_ to leave. This isn't fair to you all or me." I keep my good hand raised, seeing the shield rise from it. Jasper stands on his feet and sighs, grabbing Alice's hand.

"We'll go get some supplies for your trip. Look ... I'm sorry, but your choice in this vanished when James did. This isn't anything against you, no matter how it may feel that way. We all just want you safe."

Alice opens her mouth to protest, but closes it when Jasper squints down at her. They put on sunglasses and their jackets, taking the car and my only choice for an escape vehicle with them. I only have a moment to consider throwing every pillow at the door and then barricading myself inside the room before my phone rings.

The contact is Mothership — Renee's old house. I answer it.

"Hello?"

"Say nothing until I tell you too, alright?" James's tenor rings through me, the tone making every hair on me rise and my blood cool. I gasp, and he chuckles. "Since you're now aware of your situation, I figured I might as well reach out to you. So please, do exactly as I say, and I may just let your father live. Only answer 'yes' or 'no' to me, alright?"

"Yes..." I say, my voice a harsh, growling whisper.

"Ooh, I can see this is going to be tricky. Tell me, are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful, we won't have to play any games here. I was ready to wreck your car, take you, do as I wished, and die happily by the Olympic coven's hands. But then ... ah, the damn gunman's scent ripped through the air. His station was a little too close to your friend's house, you see. And taking him in his sleep was a breeze."

I stay silent, letting my lips quiver and the tears roll down my cheeks.

"You know, you're oddly good at obeying orders. I like that in a girl."

"Fuck you..."

"Ah-ah, pet. You don't want to make me angry from a few hundred miles away. Without his weapon, your father is a mere toy to me. Isn't that right, _officer_?" There's a wet snap in the background, and a loud, muffled scream. Dad! No! I bite my lip hard, barely squeaking out a sob. "Are you going to behave now, Bella?"

"Y-yes."

"Wonderful." He shifts on the other end of the line. "Now, you're going to slip from your guardians somehow and fly your pretty little ass down to Phoenix. I'm honestly amazed how simple it was for me to get your records ... a click here, a search there, and _boom_. I even know about the mole on your stomach. Are you following me still?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. I know it won't be easy, but know if I even _think _you have company, your father's head will be ready for you — on a pike." His overly friendly voice laughs. "So, you'll go to Phoenix, get a cab or an Uber, and go to your mother's house. There will be a cellphone and a number on the counter for you. Call it and we'll go from there. Oh, and leave your cellphone with the dynamic duo, would you kindly? Chances are they can track you using it. Sound good to you, sweet thing?"

"..."

"Answer me, _Bells_."

"Yes."

"I'm so glad to hear that."

The call drops and I let out a wail. I grab my head, bunching my hair in my hands, and cry out to no one, not being heard, not being seen, until my throat is raw, and my face is drenched and blotchy. Then my head clears, and I go straight to the bedroom. I grab everything that belongs to me — wallet, passport, pepper spray — and toss it in my backpack. Then a detour.

Jasper and Alice can't see my face like this... they'll know something is up.

I zip my bag and grab a change of underwear and shirt. A shower will hide all evidence. The moment the hot water hits my back, reason returns to me. Slipping away from a pair of vampires will not be easy. There's a chance I could leave now, before they return, but then they would start searching for me instantly. And if we're driving to the border, I can't just bail out and run.

I slip my hand out of the shower and dry it, searching for the nearest airport. Just over 50 miles ... can't walk that far, but they can outrun me.

Even so, this is my only opportunity. I emerge and dry myself quickly, looking like a bum in my old sleeping tank-top and mud-stained jeans. I brush my hair from my face and go back to the living room, putting on my shoes with my backpack beside me.

I pick up the hotel phone and dial. "Hello, Yellow Cab? Can you send a car to the McCloud Mountain Lodge? My name is Isabella Swan, I'll be catching a ride from there. Thank you!" Ten minutes. Will they be here by then...?

I snap my fingers and go to the bathroom again, tossing in all my dirty clothes and turning the water and fan on. I lock the door before closing it from the outside. My scent is there, and an excuse for me not to reply to them. I start for the door and stop... something just... I have to do one more thing.

I pick up a blank hotel stationary and write on the envelope "Give to Edward — Bella". With that taken care of, I spill my heart out on the page.

_Edward,_

_I'm sorry. I know this is going to piss you off, but I can't let you get hurt because of me. He's got Charlie. He'll kill him if anyone is with me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again, but if I don't, I want you to know I've loved every moment with you, being your friend and learning about your world. Hopefully, I'll be able to return to it._

_Don't be mad at Jasper and Alice. They don't know my plan, and if I succeed at escaping them, it'll be a miracle. Thank them for me. And please keep an eye on Alice. She won't talk about it, but I know what James wanted to do to her — I saw it all._

_And please, don't send anyone after him, or come yourself. That's what he wants. He wants an excuse to kill my dad. I can't bear the idea of you being hurt for no reason, but especially if it's because of me. That's all I ask of you._

_I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me._

_Love, Bella._

I slip the sealed letter under the bathroom door, knowing they will have to break it down to find it, and that it will save me some time to get to the airport. I breathe in, breathe out, and head toward the end. I hope to high heaven that Edward listens to me this time.

Once the taxi arrives, I'm in the backseat and asking the portly gentleman to take me to Redding Municipal. Then I close my eyes and let the pain keep me focused on my goal.

I'm going to kill James, or die trying.


	22. Rise and Rise Again

It takes less time than I'd really hoped for. But I give the man my debit card and leave the cab, rushing into the airport. The minutes are ticking by to the beat of my heart. _Boom_. I have a ticket. _Boom._ It'll be taking off for Phoenix in a half-hour. _Boom_. I go to the gift shop and buy cheap perfume and a hoodie, keeping them in the bag until I reach the bathroom. _Boom._ I spray the hoodie down with the perfume and then strip off my shirt, tossing it in the trashcan before dousing myself in the scent-hiding poison. _Boom_. I'm dressed in an unfamiliar shirt and smell like a 40-year-old.

I wonder if Alice and Jasper have realized what I've done yet. Are they following my scent? I pull my hood up and sit as close to the terminal entrance as possible. Will my measures really hide my escape? Should I have kept my cellphone with me just in case? I could have told Julie, she deserves to know.

They all deserve to know.

So much for no regrets

I pull out my notebook and start writing to Charlie. Apologizing. Begging for forgiveness. Asking him to bury me with red roses instead of yellow or pink. For him not to take his pain out on the Cullens, and to let them go wherever they want. For him to propose to Billy and be happy. And to tell Mom that I died in an accident. That I want to be cremated, so she doesn't have to see how broken I will be.

I barely hear them announce the flight to San Francisco.

A slight delay in my travel. The attendant says we'll have thirty minutes before taking back off once we land, so I won't even bother getting off the plane. Less of a scent trail to leave. I wonder if vampires can smell through steel.

I bury myself in the window seat, pressing my forehead against the walls of the plane and closing the blind to keep the light from hurting me. Two people sit beside me — warmth, human — and start their own conversations about the landmarks and restaurants they visit when they land.

As the hours go by, they stop, one even going to sleep. But the one next to me, who I now can tell is a girl around my age, looks over at me and smiles.

"So, what are your plans in San Francisco?"

"I uh ... I'm actually going to Phoenix to visit my dad."

"Divorced parents?" The sympathy in her voice makes my heart pang with guilt. I nod slowly, looking away. "I get that, my mom left mama a couple years ago. I see her on the weekends, but she's busy with her job, and I don't wanna be a bother. Things will get better, you'll see." She wrinkles her nose when she smiles, and her flawless umber skin makes Esme's beautiful, caring face flash before my eyes.

I hope she and Carlisle will be able to help my dad after this.

She goes back to her mother after offering me an affirmation, becoming background music to my writing in the notebook. Even the turbulence can't make my stomach anymore twisted than it already is. It's been over an hour since I left. If Alice and Jasper aren't aware of my absence by now, then my chances of survival have just decreased to near zero.

Though I don't really think I'll live to see tomorrow, anyway.

I pull out the book I got from Mr. Byrne and start reading the chapter of mental shields one more time. Anything to extend my lifespan will also give Charlie the chance to escape, maybe even get his gun back from James. Being able to hold my shield up, like when he attacked me in the woods, would be an awesome tool to use against him. Though ... with one hand still out of commission, it will be a lot more difficult. But I'll try. For Charlie's sake.

Nine hours later, I'm on familiar ground. Phoenix, Arizona — where I'm suddenly in deep suffering in this hoodie — is just as dry, hot, and bright as my memory made it out to be. I hail a cab and give the person my mother's address.

"That's in Scottsdale," they tell me, as though I don't already know. I pull out sixty dollars' worth of bills and hold them up. With a pause, they turn on the meter and takes off, playing soft country music as we go down the road. "So, you have family here?"

Fucking hell, what is it with random people asking me about my life today?

"Yeah, my mom, actually. I'm going back to her place after visiting my dad for a while." I speak casually, them nodding with a smile.

"It's good to see a kid so happy to see her parents. We'll be in the car for a bit, so get comfortable." I lean back in the seat and cross my legs. The familiar city rushes around me, melting into a solid quicksilver mass. It takes all I can to stay calm in front of the happily ignorant cabby, and focus on keeping my shield around my good hand, the shimmer barely visible thanks to my sleeve.

I won't lose my head at this point. I'm too far in to consider pulling back. I lean forward and ask the driver to turn the AC up, closing my eyes for the rest of the twenty-minute drive. I imagine I stayed with Alice and Jasper, telling Edward of what James sent me. How quickly and gracefully he would have rushed to Phoenix, taking James by surprise and ending my father's life before he had a chance to save him. And I, now without reason or ability to stay in Forks, would find myself in the arms of my mother, traveling the country without knowing when I'll ever see him or my other friends again.

I wonder where he would have taken me if we hid. Maybe to the Denali clan, the allies Carlisle mentioned a couple days ago. Or maybe we'd travel west, where populations thin the deeper in the forest you go. And he would never have to worry about showing himself in the daylight. And we would lie out in the sun together, and he wouldn't have to be afraid of me running or thinking him a monster. After all, what kind of monster goes to such lengths to protect their friend?

"What was the number again?" The cabby asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

"5821," I say, sitting up straight. They look back at me with creased eyebrows and a nervous sheen of sweat on their forehead. I know how I must look to them, having a little episode in the back seat of their cab. I don't blame them for eyeballing me. Knowing my outfit and smell, I likely seem insane.

"Alright, here we are." I nod, leaving the car with a soft thanks.

I go straight to the eave, where the spare key is hidden, and unlock the stucco house's massive wooden door. The house is dark, with only a few bits of furniture scattered around after their move. But I don't focus on that. I go straight through, to the kitchen in the back, and pick up the landline phone. Beside it is a sticky-note, and a phone number written in a small, neat hand. And a little heart to sign it off.

"Bella, you did well. A lot quicker than I imagined. Impressive."

"How is my dad?"

"Oh, I haven't hurt him anymore, I promise. Once I'm through with you, he'll be free to go, no problem." He's amused, but something under his voice makes my back straighten. "And are you...?"

"Alone, yes. None of them know where I am."

"Very good! Meet me at the ballet studio just around the corner. You know, it's honestly so cute how your mother has old photographs of you in your tutu and leggings. I wish I could have met her, but oh well. Maybe some other time." He hangs up before I can scream curses at him.

I run back into the baking heat, racing from the empty shell I once called home and down the street, avoiding people and cracks in the sidewalk. It makes me sick to think the last person to walk through what was once my sanctuary is the man who may kill me.

I can almost see my mother and I sitting in the shade of the eucalyptus tree in the front yard. Or playing in the dirt around the mailbox where she tried to grow flowers.

_No_. Don't think about then. Don't worry about then. Memories won't save me from the reality of my situation. I march on, spotting the red brick building just across the street when I round the corner. Every inch of my gait is like running through a quagmire. Sweat pours down my face, down my back, my breathing hard and short. I race through the mud of fear and loathing, and I wish for the protective, lush forests of Forks ... of home.

On the mirrored glass door, there's a handwritten sign on hot pink paper; "Spring Break! Classes will resume on:" and I stop reading there. I look at the decals of dancers painted on the front, the massive windows with the shades drawn. My hand goes to the bar handle, expecting to meet resistance. It opens, and cold air rushes me.

The dark lobby stinks of carpet shampoo and the musty old air conditioner. On the walls, plastic chairs sit stacked above my head. The doors leading to the southern and eastern dance floors are shut — but the room to the west is wide open, the lights on. I swallow my fear, flex my fingers, and make my way through the threshold.

In the middle of the room is Charlie, laying on his side, restrained by handcuffs. I scream and run to him, landing hard on my knees to check him over. He's not moving, he's not awake, but he's breathing. He's alive. I cup his cheek and let out a relieved sigh.

But then a foot lands on his stomach, and he jolts awake with a cry of his own.

"Welcome, Bella!" James announces, ripping me away from Charlie. I land on my rear about six feet back. "Just look at you. Tiny. Fragile. Alone. And all mine to play with. I tell you, it couldn't possibly get better than this!" He picks up Charlie by the shoulder and smiles. "All this for _him_. I wish my daughter had loved me this much. Oh, but let's not dwell on the past."

He drops Charlie then and goes to me, kneeling an inch from my face.

"You know what I want?"

"Me. Dead. And if you get that, you'll let my dad go free?" I hear Charlie groaning out his protests, and James lets out a scoff in disgust.

"Please try to be polite back there. It's rude to interrupt." James shakes his head, biting his lower lip as he looks me over. "You know, you're the second one of your kind I've come across. Not a witch, no. But a Singer. Very rare, you are. Especially since you appear to sing to more than one vampire. That red-haired man, Edward ... ah, now there is a vampire Anne Rice would cream over."

"You're disgusting!"

"Why thank you, sweetie." He grabs my broken wrist and pulls me to my feet, and then off the floor by it. I scream and moan, electric pain shooting down my arm. I don't have time to think, to focus. I pull my good arm back and punch, pushing my shield forward with all my might. The crack of my wrist shattering proves that he went flying away, but the throbbing pain blinds me.

"You little _bitch!_" James rises to his feet, neck cracking back into place, and crouches. Then his hands fly to his cheeks.

I've seen Edward angry, I've seen his true form forced on him. I've never seen a vampire reach up and tear his own face off. Blood and transparent chunks of skin hit the floor with a wet thud. He tears at his hands, claws escaping their confines violently.

I watch without breathing across the long room, my eyes narrow and my teeth grinding. I stare into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looks back at me with a pleasant grin. Though shaken, I raise my hands defensively. I am not ready to face this foe. To face the claws and teeth shimmering in the fluorescent lights. But what choice do I have?

As of now, it's either him or me.

This never would have happened if I stayed with my mom, if I had never even looked in the direction of Forks. I'd be safe. Not facing death. But as terrified as I feel, I can't bring myself to regret every choice that has led to this.

The hunter smiles in a friendly way as he saunters forward to kill me.

James' casual movements contrast my rigid stance, and without Edward nearby I won't be able to know his moves ahead of time. I watch his feet, seeing that the toes face the direction he is leaning toward. Of course, he's a persistence predator. He's going to try to tire me out.

He lunges at me, and I push him to my right, turning with his falling motion.

He doesn't land on his face. He turns and balances on his palms, pushing back up to his feet. Then he grins.

"You know, your little friend smelled almost as delicious as you do when she was human... all those years in the asylum. Shocked. Beaten. Treated like the Scum of the Earth just because she had a touch of magic in her. I sensed her from miles away." Licking his lips, James rushes me again, and I make a fist, striking his jaw and sending him to my feet. He laughs while I back away, slowly rising. "You're a little older than I usually like ... Victoria, she uh ... she's a lot younger than she looks. At least, her body is."

"Shut-up..."

"Ah, but she was nothing compared to little Mary Alice's scent. I took her just to make up for losing that beautiful, rare delicacy. Now you ... you're floral, almost. Like a forget-me-not. And so much more _playful_ than she would have been. I'm almost glad your pathetic father shot me. Adds some stakes to the game." He's 180'd me, leaving a direct path to Charlie. To his gun. The one thing in this room that can kill a vampire.

Then I do something my brain knows is stupid, but my heart can't help.

I roar, thrusting my hands forward so the electric energy of my shield goes at him full force. James' face freezes when his back crashes into the glass walls. I turn during his distraction and run to Charlie, falling to my knees and picking up the handgun. A weapon custom made for killing vampires...

I cock the hammer and turn to him. He's gone. Not from the room, but from vision. It's too cold in here for him to have vanished without a trace. A soft, red light appears in the corner of my eye and I raise the gun in that direction, firing and making my wrist crack from the pushback.

Right ... it's a .40 caliber. I've only ever shot a .22.

James emerges, laughing and holding his stomach, with an old camcorder at his face. He's limping, his leg slowly healing itself where I hit him. I cock the hammer to shoot him again, but he's in my face before I can touch the trigger.

"Now this is what I _love _to see! The action, the adventure, the thrills. A young woman too stubborn for her own damn good, knowing she is going to die." He takes the barrel of the gun and shoves it against his forehead. Even with the thought of it being a trick playing in my brain, I pull the trigger.

And there's nothing.

"He used five of the six bullets when I took him. I saved that for him, actually. Give him a quick death after I tore his daughter apart from the inside," his eyes flick down my body and slowly run up it, "out. But I guess now I'll just ... slit his throat and leave you both bleeding out on the floor."

"You fucker..." I feel the static build in my hands again, but he's learned his lesson. He snarls and grabs my good wrist tightly. My scream comes out right as my body meets the floor, eyes still locked with his.

"You think you're so strong, don't you? Being a natural little witch with a vampire pet at your beck-and-call, and this aged killer at your side." He straddles my legs, free hand walking up my chest to my chin. "But here's the thing, Bella; you're just a pathetic little human at the end of the day. You lost your savior when you told Edward not to come here. When you actually _listened _to me, like a naïve child, instead of trusting your vampire friends to take care of me for you. I never could have fought all of them off. You walked right into this! Your death. _His _death. And for what?"

His hand grips my cheeks, tearing the flesh from my eye socket to my jaw.

"Would you like to ... rethink your final request? Telling Edward to avoid me. To not come here and avenge your untimely death." He bites his lip and looks back. Then he presses his knee against my thigh and — the crack is so loud, I don't realize I'm shrieking. "Because eventually he'll find you. And he'll see this, see _us_," James' eyes narrow and he plays with the collar of my hoodie. "Maybe I'll leave an X-rated cut in his bedroom, just to be sure he knows everything. Ahh, but first!" He sets the camera down, angling it to keep both our faces in frame, and slowly leans in, cupping my cheek.

I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, feeling the shield work its way through me. From my hands to my chest.

I can almost see the shimmer of reality being distorted by its existence.

I can feel it press against James' abdomen.

I let the breath out and open my eyes. As the air floods out of my lungs, he rises, moving in near slow-motion, until his back crashes into the metal ceiling, creating a massive dent.

I roll as far away as I can, ignoring every crack of pain that races through my leg and hand. My heart hammers, and the pain flushes away. I stand, though not very straight, and let out a roar while James falls to the ground, forcing him away from Charlie and against the mirrored wall. The glass shatters, haloing his confused, coiled body. Sunlight is peaking inside from the broken brick walls.

And that is what he continues to do. Back-and-forth, until the bricks are crumbling, the glass is nearly powder, and James rolls onto the parking-lot, growling and grunting with rage. Even with the risk of exposure, he races toward me, all four limbs on the ground.

The tracker, the hunter, the _lion_, unlocks his jaw and leaps. And with a backhanded swing of my broken arm, he goes off to my left, breaking the floor with his heavy body. He's down, he's not moving. I take the chance, and I look at Charlie. My rush of excitement at seeing him on his feet, getting his bearings with his gun, takes my attention away from the rush of wind that blows my hair from my eyes.

Not until burning pain shoots through my neck, and the skin of my arms pops like overripe fruit.


	23. To die will be an awfully big adventure

I drift. I dream. I float in the dark, endless water. Everything is muffled, pressure builds in my chest that makes it impossible to get a breath in. My brain, trying to make sense of the flames that lick the side of my face despite the water, try to create a comfort. And that comfort comes in the familiar, furious roar that makes the void around me tremble.

I can see the light above me, dancing through the thrashing waves. Shadows dance violently, voices with cotton shoved in their throats rip through. But I can't make them out. And with every beat of my panicking heart, the light grows further away. The cotton starts to fill my ears.

... I'm dying.

Then that sickening, delightful, recognizable voice manages to penetrate my ears.

"_Bella!_"

Barely breaking through the inferno that slowly spreads through my blood, a cool touch caresses my cheek. And a pained gasp at what he sees almost covers the pained cries and cracks in the background. Like a grinding crystal, with a high keen as something — someone — is torn to shreds.

And then the screaming stops with one final snap.

" — ella, please! Listen to me —" The waves lap over my senses. I try to speak, but the water rushes in. My voice, if it comes out, is barely a whisper. But it is his name.

"...Edward..."

"Carli—!" Agony, ringing through the air like a bell, and fear. "... stay with me, baby... "

Funny, I think I've heard him say that before.

Cool touches my face, the salt of the tears on my lips a welcome sensation. I'm not dead. Not yet. But my heart ... the pounding is slowing. I don't want it to stop. I prefer the deafening drums. Another voice, with a wise, aged tone, creeps in. Strangely clear, strangely focused. From the epicenter of my flames, it's getting colder.

"It's done. Edward, let me ..." A growl, a press to a hard, cold chest. Sharp pain shoots through my torso. I feel my body twitch. "Don't move her! He broke her leg, some ribs. I don't know how much longer she has. She — she's lost too much blood to change."

"What...?"

"Even if we let the venom change her body, there isn't enough human blood left to restart her heart."

"H-hurts..." I barely whimper. "Burns... on fire..." They don't see the white-hot embers crystalizing my skin, turning my muscle to rock. But God, it's almost too much to bear.

"Is there anything we can do?" Edward cradles me like an infant, pressing his mouth to my forehead. "I've got you, Bella...I've got you."

"I don't know. We used all my supplies patching up Charlie...but maybe. Bite her. There's a chance you can drain the venom from her before she's too far gone." Hesitance. Shaking terror. Edward shakes his head, pulling into himself. "Edward...?"

"I don't ... I don't think I can control myself if I try. Her blood sings to me, all I would do is accelerate her death. I can't do that to her. I can't..."

"I understand. I'll do it. I can handle being around it, dealing with it. I'll get it out of her."

"Carlisle, you've never drank human blood...what if it happens to you, too?"

"Then I trust you to kill me and lead the coven. But you have to trust me to at least try and save her. We love her _almost _as much as you do." My hand shifts toward Carlisle's voice, and he lets out a soft chuckle. "I think...I think we have an answer."

"...alright." Edward whispers soft comforts as he shifts my body to much thicker, more defined arms. Never leaving my side, his trembling hands take mine. "Alice, Emmett! Get something to brace her leg, and be ready to hold Carlisle down."

I don't feel them break my leg back into place. I don't hear Alice and Emmett discuss their chances of taking down a much older, more powerful vampire. A vampire they both see as a father or brother.

I feel a cold hand grip my hair and pull my head back. I feel a cold set of lips touch my neck, a shaking breath cool the flaming skin.

I feel the fangs slide along the canals left by an animal's attack. I wait for another rush of fire, another surge of fire to flush out what's left of my humanity, and leave me a dead stone on the ground.

And at first, I'm right. My senses shift into overdrive, and the water parts like the red sea from my body. My eyes are too focused, noticing the golden flecks remaining in Edward's eyes. The touch of blue in Carlisle's, the number of knots in the wooden structure on the ceiling. The flames rush down my veins. I watch Carlisle's face, the grim determination wrinkling his lightly freckled skin, his icy hands holding me tight.

He vices my body, holding me still through my body's unconscious thrashing until the fire dulls down. My limbs numb, drawing in toward my neck, toward Carlisle's lips. Until even that last flicker is dead. His nails, not claws, kneed my skin like a cat, and then he thrusts me like a doll into Edward's arms.

"Hospital. Now. Tell them whatever you must."

"Carlisle!" Edward holds me, rising to his feet. I start sinking back into the water, their words melting together. They argue until Carlisle is unable to hold back his high, monstrous scream. With what feeling I have, I grip Edward's shirt and urge him to go. "...alright. Alright. Stay with me, Bella. Stay with me."

"Go ... just go..."

"Bella ... Bella, I lo—"

I drift to sleep in Edward's arms.


	24. Mending the Pieces

I'm blinded the moment I open my eyes. Bright, white light in a clean, white room. And without my second pair of eyes, the light seems to smear over everything. I feel the hard, uneven bed that supports me, the sling my leg is in, the cradle of my chicken-winged arm. My right hand, wrapped in clean bandages, grips the rails of the bed, and I try to raise from the lumpy pillows. One thing is certain — I'm still alive, and I'm still human. The steady sound of my heartbeat on the monitor is sign enough. I reach up to detach the air tube taped to my cheek, wanting to scratch the hidden skin.

"Don't you dare," cool fingers catch my hand.

"I'm breathing just fine." I say with a smile. I look at Edward, at the fresh darkness under his eyes, the blotchiness of his cheeks, and the crooked grin that plays his lips. He sighs, reaching and ruffling my hair. "Thank you... I shouldn't have lied, shouldn't have left. I just ... I'm sorry."

"Hey, you were worried about Charlie. I mean, Rosalie does want to tear you a new one, but Jasper is mildly impressed at the little set-up you created. It took Alice about an hour to realize you'd vanished. It's all good now." His soft fingers caress my bandaged cheek, soothing the stinging pain. "Everything's as it should be."

"What all happened? Everything is so muffled and blurry."

"We tracked you down just in time. He had just bitten you when we tore him from your neck. We could see you start to change, but ... you wouldn't have. Changed, I mean."

"Carlisle," I let out the tension from my shoulders. "He said my body was too weak. Had too little blood."

"James punctured your arms for that reason. He knew you'd feel the pain of changing, all the while your heart would just give out. If it weren't for Carlisle getting the venom out of you, I don't think we'd even be here right now."

"I'm grateful. Even if I could have changed, I wouldn't want to. I want to live as a human at least until I finish high school..." I rub my eyes, leaning back on the weird pillows. "God, how could I have been to stupid? Confronting a vampire alone, I'm lucky he didn't just ... Charlie!" I shoot back up, and a hot bolt rushes my ribs.

"Don't exert yourself!" Edward gently pushes me back. "He's already recovered, been in and out of here to check on you for the last few days. That, and talking to your mom, Renee. She sounds horrifically like you over the phone." He deadpans for a moment. "You know, if she really does look like you, I might just have a heart attack."

"Yeah, one of me is scary enough. At least she can walk straight."

"Without tripping over thin air?"

"Or even a fallen leaf."

"There really is a God." As if knowing the others' thoughts, we flick the bird and laugh. "She just arrived today. She doesn't understand why either of you are in Phoenix in the middle of the semester, but Charlie came up with a decent enough lie...albeit, a fairly bullshit one, but it was good enough for her as far as I know. I'll update you if I run into her."

"So what is the story? How did I get hurt, why am I down here?"

"You're down here because you and Charlie got into a fight about you leaving Forks over the summer, about how you didn't want to feel as trapped as she did before the divorce. And upon arriving in Phoenix, you fell down two flights of stairs and out a second story window. Alice uh ... Alice had a _lot_ of fun creating the evidence."

We both laugh at the mental image, Edward pulling a chair beside the bed and sitting down. He pulls his knees to his chest and sighs. "You have some cracks in your skull, bunch of bruises. He completely snapped your left arm and right leg, and broke five ribs. They gave you so much blood you smelled like four different people, and none of them you."

"Must've been a nice change for you," I offer a wink. He looks away.

"Not even a little bit. I like your scent. It's more ... more comforting than appetizing anymore. Smells like home. Oh," he picks up a bag and sets it on the nightstand, "Carlisle sent these. Shelly, Byron, Vonnegut. Things he thought you would like. As an apology for breaking that fifth rib."

"How did he do it?" From the look in his eyes, he knows exactly what I mean.

"I don't know. I could hear him, he was struggling. The taste was unfamiliar, the sensation. The ... the _pleasure_ of it. Part of the reason why I could never give it up, really. It should have been impossible. But he looked at me, and he thought ... 'I am better than this'."

He gently takes my bandaged hand, careful to avoid the tubes and wires connected to me, and squeezes.

"So, um ..." his face suddenly falls. "What do you remember?"

"I remember fighting James, and Carlisle biting me. Everything after that is just a big, black blob." Something akin to relief makes his entire body straighten up, and he looks toward the door. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, ma belle."

"What did you do to James? Was he hard to kill?"

"No, he was actually very easy. I think," he looks up in his head, lip curling, "that he got so used to fighting humans that he forgot how to take down even a single vampire. Once Carlisle arrived with the others, he was history."

"... what about the video?"

"Carlisle refused to let us watch it, but Alice stole it from him. Before any of us could ask, she destroyed it. I saw ... flashbacks in her mind. She remembers how she was changed, where she was as a human. She was only a little girl..." His lips purse, a corner rising into a cruel grimace. "I wish we had taken more time with him. Made his pain last. Kept his head so he could live in misery."

"His head would still be alive?"

"Vampire biology is a strange thing...we can eat, breathe, sleep. But we don't need to. You can live without a body, but you'll become stone. Or ... like stone. We can be frozen for centuries and not even realize it. Happened to the Romanians a few millennia ago." He mutters as if it's idle gossip, rolling his eyes into his skull.

I shake my head, feeling the catheter in my arm shift slightly. I squeeze my eyes shut and cover them with my broken arm, the cast acting as a good shield. "Fuuuuck."

"What is it?" He sounds worried, but my groan brings out a laugh.

"IV. Needles. _Blood_."

"A sadistic vampire intent on slaughtering you is no big deal, but a tiny tube in your wrist is enough to make you white as a sheet, and even a little shaky. Isabella, you are a wonder..." I stick my tongue out and turn my head to the left, wanting to watch the door for signs of my parents. Once the skin on my neck shifts, my eyes widen.

My hand, though sore and throbbing, reaches to touch the covered wound. And through the bandages, I feel icy cold skin, smooth as diamond. "Ah ... Edward ... Edward, my neck..."

"What's wrong with it?" He stands, stammering as my nails claw at the covering. "Bella don't! Shit ..." He vanishes and returns with scissors, gauze, and bandages. The moment the air hits it, he lets out a chuckle. "Seems like there was a side-effect. A tiny piece of you has been changed."

"Oh great...at least my throat will never be cut."

"There's also the possibility that some of you changed on the inside. We'll have Carlisle check back in Forks. Well, if you go back. I can't say I'd blame you if you wanted to go back with your mom after all this."

"Hey, you're not getting rid of me that easily." Edward fixes up my neck, making sure that no one would know about my little episode of taking it off. "So, what does my mom think you're doing here?"

She thinks I came down with Carlisle and the kids — Rose, Jasper, Alice — to bring you home." He chuckles, fixing the bandage and backing up. "You agreed to meet at the hotel we were staying at, tripped over your own shadow, and you know the rest. I even managed to break down in tears. She'll understand if you don't remember the exact details."

"Good." I close my eyes and chew my bottom lip. "I just hope she believes me ... it'll be hard to lie about this. Harder than normal, anyway."

"I'll be here every step of the way. To the end of the line, ma belle." Edward looks toward the door and grins. "I hear your mother. I'm gonna uh, 'take a nap'." He quotes, and pushes away from the bed. He curls up on the faux-leather, hideously puce couch, and within seconds looks like he's been out of it for over an hour.

I can hear her now, talking in a rushed voice, a nasally undertone. Like she's been crying. She sounds exhausted. I want to jump out of bed and run to her, hug her tight, and promise that I'm okay. But right now, I'm barely in enough shape to get up and pee. I lay there and wait, impatiently.

"Hey," I glance at Edward's still body and chuckle, "don't forget to breathe." He lets out a dramatic sigh, and his stomach moves at a normal sleeping pace. And I swear the middle finger of his left hand just saluted me.

The door opens and I take in Renee's tear-stained cheeks and wild hair with a touch of guilt in my stomach. The lie is good, the lie will work. The lie will keep at least one of my loved ones safe. I can't stop the choking sob of relief from escaping my throat.

"Mom!" It comes out harshly, like a croaking frog, and is met with both of us starting to cry. Renee comes to me, kissing my cheeks repeatedly and looking over me frantically. Her eyes fall on Edward's still form, and she quiets herself a bit more.

"Boy never leaves, does he?" She asks herself, shaking her head. "First time I've seen him, he never came out unless the nurses made him."

"I don't want to talk about Edward right now, Mom." I lay my hand over hers, and she looks at me again. "I've missed you so much..."

"I've missed you too, little dancer. I'm so glad you're alright. I hated seeing you on all those machines, not knowing if you were going to wake up..."

"Don't think about that, Mom. I'll be just fine." Renee shakes her head and hugs me as tight as safe, and I feel warm tears falling on my cheeks.

"I was so scared..."

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"Your eyes have been closed for so long, seeing them has just made my day. My _life_, really. That doctor was so friendly. Dr. Cullen treated you the entire time, though ..." she fans herself for a moment and giggles. "He doesn't quite look old enough to be a doctor, does he? Bit of a babyface. But so handsome!"

"It runs in the family." Edward laughs in his 'sleep', making Renee jump in her skin. "He does that sometimes."

"I can definitely see that. And those girls, Rosalie and Alice. Such angels, I can see why he took them in."

"They're an amazing family." I say, smiling to myself. "Some of the best people I've ever met."

She nods in agreement, looking over at Edward again, him keeping his charade of sleep very well. "You didn't tell me you had such good friends in Forks...or someone willing to follow you across the country to bring you back."

I cringe at that, then groan, my stomach lurching in pain.

"What hurts?" she demands, eyes looking over me. From the corner of my fuzzy vision, I see the light reflecting off Edward's eyes.

"It's fine," I assure them, holding my hands up. "I moved too quickly, that's all." Edward's eyes snap shut, and I take the pause to change the subject completely. "Where's Phil?" I ask, furrowing my brows.

"Still in Jacksonville. Oh, Bella, you're going to love Florida! Now that Phil's signed with The Suns, we can stay in one place. We can be a family again. You can come home." Renee's face takes on a softness reserved only for when she's truly excited about something. The monitor recording my heart rate exposes my internal panic. Her eyes widen for a moment. "Are you alright, sweetie?"

"I ... I'm not going to Florida. I live in Forks. I want to stay there." Edward is tensing in his 'sleep' — far too much for anyone who is truly deep in the REM.

"Bella, you don't have to anymore. Phil will be around so much more, and when he's away I'll be home with you. Well, half of the time." Another offer to sacrifice her adventure. Another pained look in her eyes that says it is made out of duty, not want. "You don't have to force yourself to say in Forks anymore. Charlie told me about your argument ..."

"It was my PMS talking. Okay? I do want to live in Forks, I just wasn't thinking straight, and Dad caught me at a bad moment. I'm settled in, my grades are still good, I've got so many amazing friends," she glances at Edward again, and I pull her away, "and Dad needs me. Mom, you have Phil to keep you company. Dad has no one up there. I can't just abandon him after just getting him back. Besides, he gets the wrong brand of tofu."

"Wait, seriously?" The idea of someone _wanting_ to stay in Forks seems inconceivable to her. Her eyes flick over to Edward, then back to me. "I guess I don't really understand."

"I told you why. School, friends, Dad — ouch!" I shrugged. Bad idea on my part. Her hands flutter over me, looking for a safe place to pat. She looks at my forehead and pats there — the only unbandaged part of me.

"And here I thought you hated it there."

"I hate everything when the cramping starts." She laughs, enjoying my period jokes a little too much. Honestly, if I didn't laugh about them, I'd cry. "It isn't so bad." This time she deliberately nods at Edward and points with her thumb.

"Is it the boy?" She whispers, winking.

I open my mouth to object, but nothing seems to escape. She scrutinizes my face, mischief dancing in her eyes. Through various stammers, stutters, and even curses, I find myself unable to come up with a reasonable 'yes, but also no' that she would believe.

"He's part of it," I finally admit, looking away from her. "Have you had a chance to talk to him at all?"

"No, but I have talked to his brother and those adorable nieces of his. I actually wanted talk to you about that."

"Oh? What about?"

"Well, and I might be wrong here, but I honestly think that boy is in love with you." She accuses with a straight face, keeping her voice low. Not that it will help, Edward is already starting to turn in his fetal position. Oh, this is awkward.

"He's my best friend, Mom. That's as deep as his feelings go. I think I would have picked it up if he was."

"You're so sure?" Renee sighs, setting her chin on her palm. "I've had good friends, best friends. None of them would go to the lengths Edward has." She looks over at the wall clock and then to her watch, getting antsy out of nowhere. "Mmh."

"Something wrong, Mom?"

"It's Phil. He's supposed to be calling soon." She bites her lip, chewing it a bit. "I didn't know when you were going to wake up, I-I don't know when the phone will start ringing. I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Go ahead and call him, catch him off guard for once." I lean in and kiss her cheek, ignoring the pain in my abdomen. "I won't be alone."

"I know ... but, if it's okay, I'll be sleeping here tonight too."

"Too?"

"There was a break-in at the old ballet studio. Someone just ... burned it to the ground out of nowhere. There was a stolen car out front, no one knows who started it. And the security cameras were absolutely destroyed." A fond smile takes over Renee's face. "I remember how you used to dance..."

"Mom, I haven't danced since I fell off the stage." She laughs and nods. "Besides, while this is a decade too late ... I never really liked dancing anyway. I just joined to make you happy."

"Oh! Oh ... oh sweetie, I didn't know. I should have noticed."

"Water under the bridge or over the dam, Mom." She hesitates before hugging me again, her hand going to my hair. She tugs on it before leaning back and examining me. "Uh ... what?"

"I didn't realize hospitals did total haircuts for head injuries. How did I not notice my little girl's fuzzy pixie?"

"Oh, uh — Alice did it."

"Alice? The doctor's daughter? Isn't she, like, 15?"

14, actually. "She's my age, Mom. In the advanced classes. I had an argument with Dad's clippers and well, she saved me."

"That's adorable... alright, I'll be back tonight." Her voice comes off more as a warning than a promise, especially with the pointed look to Edward she gives. She trades places with a nurse who examines my various tubes and wires, interrupting the forehead kiss my mom attempted to give me. And in the corner of my eye, Edward's massive grin totally ends his sleeping charade.

"Are you feeling anxious, honey? Your heart rate got a little high there."

"My mom kept asking about my relationship with—" I point to Edward, and the nurse laughs to himself.

"Yeah, parents are like that. I'll tell your RN that you're awake. Dr. Cullen will want to see you soon." As soon as he closes the door, Edward is sitting on the foot of the bed, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Grand theft auto? Really?"

"It was a good car, too. Very fast. Very sleek. I almost wanted to keep it, but Carlisle smacked the back of my head at the suggestion." He confesses, unrepentant. "That nap was one of the strangest I've ever had. I can't believe you didn't take her up on that Florida offer."

"Well, there are a lot of downsides to going to Florida. Starting a new school, seeing people I don't know, losing my dad again, losing you and the rest of the coven. Overall, it's a losing situation."

"But you'd be safer there. No vampires, no magic. Just you and the bright sun that you love."

"There are more important things in my life." He shrugs, crawling up a bit and laying beside me. "What, you tired of having to save my life already?" I push his arm, and he lets out a mocking mutter.

"If it weren't for the fact that I caused the danger in the first place, I'd save your life until the day we both die."

"Need I remind you that two of the three times you've had to save me, it was a human who caused it." I reach over and boop his nose. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be alive right now. Covered in gauze and plaster, yes, but it's better than being pumped with formaldehyde and put in a box."

"...I hate it when you're right."

"You love me," I tease, yawning softly. "All the same, if I could have survived the change, would you have let me?"

"That isn't my choice to make. None of us were changed because we had a choice, your story would have been similar to mine. Dying, heart barely beating. But Alice told me what you said. How you don't want to be a vampire. And Carlisle, he was smart enough to know the cost of letting you lay there."

"Thank you, Edward."

"For what...?" He looks at me, face screwed in confusion.

"Thinking of me, of what I want. I dunno, maybe someday I'd like to be like you. But not in high school. Not when I have so much I want to experience. With my gigantic nerd friend at my side," I reach for his hand, and tenderly he takes it. Edward's eyes twinkle, tears lining the bottom lid. "That way _you _can be _my _Lois Lane for a while, Clark."

"You and your superhero comparisons, and yet I'm the nerd here."

"Exactly right."

"Yeah, exactly right..." He runs his fingers along the lines of my palm, along my veins and pulse point. "Sometimes I wonder what this really did to me. But at the same time, my life was already over. Even if I lost my soul, I wouldn't have lost an entire lifetime like you would."

"My life was over when I sat next to you in biology." I remind him, earning an eye roll glare. "Who knows, maybe I'm on borrowed time before some epic finale. A battle that will change the world forever. Vampires and witches and gremlins, oh my!"

He laughs, holding his unoccupied hand to his temple. "Gremlins? Really?"

"I thought werewolves were overdone."

"Overdone, but more logical," Edward sums up, eyes locking on the door. A nurse comes in with a tray of food and smiles at us. "Thank you, sir."

"Of course. It'll be good for her to eat something solid for once." He takes his leave, and I look at the plate in front of me. Everything smells amazing, from the tofu burger to the milk in the carton. I glance at Edward, who leans back and raises both his hands, before digging in.

It tastes completely different than normal. Savory. Juicy. Even the cheese feels different on my tongue. Before I can stop myself, I've got half of the sandwich down my throat. It isn't until Edward grabs my wrist that I tear myself away from it.

"Not to um ... spoil your fun, but aren't you ... vegetarian? Allergic to _meat _specifically? You have alpha-gal, you could go into anaphylactic shock! How did the nurse not know?" I set the sandwich down and we both sit on edge, waiting for something to happen.

Five seconds.

Thirty.

A minute.

And nothing.

"I mean ..." I start slowly, hearing footsteps approach, "at the very least, I'm already in a hospital." The door opens and both Charlie and Carlisle freeze when they see the tense, wide-eyed expressions on mine and Edward's faces.

"Uh ..." Carlisle looks at me, his eyes narrow. "At least the bonnie bairn is awake, but I am sensing tensions of some kind."

Charlie rubs the back of his neck, his bandaging and bruising highly visible in the hospital light. "There is indeed a disturbance in the force. Did we interrupt something?"

"Charlie..." Edward clears his throat, eyes never leaving the dropped food product. "How long have you known about Bella's meat allergy?"

"Since she was old enough to eat solid foods. Renee never got it diagnosed, but we both made sure she stayed away from it. Why?"

"Never got it ..." He points at the burger on my plate. "That's beef. Real beef." I turn to the two men, who are now in the midst of panic. Carlisle rushes me, examining my face and throat for signs of swelling or inflammation. Charlie, meanwhile, is frozen at the door.

"How is it you're always one misstep away from death, lass?" Carlisle asks, pressing his fingers to my throat to feel my pulse ... and then he moves them to the other side. The human side. That's when realization hits his eyes. "Ah, I'm an idiot."

"You are?" I ask, searching his face for answers.

"I am, yes, at times. Your case is unique. You've been out for a few days, whatever changes the venom might have made to you are set in. Perhaps, Miss Swan, vampirism cured your allergy. We know you're not going to change, or else you would have, so let's take this as ... providence."

"P-providence?" Charlie sputters, his head whipping back and forth. "Really, Carlisle?"

"I've no other words for it. Your daughter is truly remarkable, Charles." He stands, looking around and picking up my glasses to examine them. "How is your vision?"

"Fuzzy as ever."

Carlisle looks back at Charlie and grins. "See? Providence. She's left human, with scars only warriors can boast, and the knowledge that Emmett will now use her as a guinea pig for his recipes." He sets my glasses in my hand and pushes the food toward me. "Enjoy. Now, Charlie," he goes to my dad and lays a hand on his shoulder, "we were discussing the other nomads..." Their conversation fades down the hall, and Edward simply goes to the couch and faceplants.

"Feeling alright?"

"I want to throw myself into the ocean for a month."

"I'd join you, but I doubt I got vampiric breath holding out of this."

"Please, don't even joke...I've spent the past few days thinking you were dead or dying. My sense of humor has officially collapsed." He splays out, kicking his shoes off and grabbing one of the throw pillows to cling to. I look at my set-up — the IV that is portable, the fact that I'm no longer on a ventilator, and how I can't use my right leg.

But I can try.

I spot the wheelchair at the end of the bed and make it my goal, scooting on my ass to the end of the bed with my IV pole as an oar. I shift, reaching with my good leg until I can pull it towards me and hop down onto the chair with minor shocks through my leg and rib cage.

Edward is sitting up by the time I've rolled over to him, and I offer him my arms. He opens his mouth to likely scold me, until his lip starts quivering, his hands start shaking. He pulls me over, carefully draping my leg on the couch, and holds me close, pressing his face into my hair.

I press my hands together on my chest, leaning against his shoulder and listening to his faint, soft heartbeat. He hums softly to me. My lullaby, my song. In that moment, the pain of the past few weeks has vanished. There was no James, never any James. No threat to my life. Just Edward, the knowledge that this amazing guy is by my side. And that I am, for once in my life, on the same frequency as someone else.


	25. A Happy Occasion

Edward guides me to the passenger seat of his car, using his most delicate presses and prods to not mess up the flower on my lapel, the tie Charlie took 10 minutes working on, and the blast-back that Alice showed up an hour ago to put together on my head. And on my right leg, a rather nasty looking cast. All the while, he ignores my hard-set mouth and narrow eyes.

Once I'm settled, his chuckling highness gets into the driver's seat and starts down the long, narrow driveway.

"You gonna clue me in, or do I have to start screaming?" I ask, refusing to look at him. I hear him laugh again, his radio clicking on to an indie band Jessica introduced us to. My favorite song by them, actually. Dammit. We both start singing along with my question not being answered.

"You know," I finally say, "if Alice is going to keep using me as a guinea pig, I may just stay at home on the weekends."

"That'd break her heart and you know it." Edward states, knowing absolutely no one can resist Alice's heartbreaking doe's eyes when she begs. "I'm honestly surprised you, Ms. Detective, haven't figured it out yet."

Well, the fact that he's wearing a James Bond worthy tuxedo isn't helping. We don't really go out much, not since we got back to Forks. Too much Charlie making sure I'm still alive and Carlisle making absolutely sure I'm still human. That either of them are letting me out of their sight is too much of a relief for me _care_ about what Edward is planning.

"You look beautiful, if I may say." Edward says as if it's indisputable fact. "Or, rather, _dashing_. Alice's magic even brought out the little bits of gold in those eyes." I reach over and playfully punch his arm, my wrist, thankfully, much better than it was just a little while ago.

Carlisle says the venom might have sped up my healing. Only time will tell if it'll last.

My cell phone rings, and Edward stares at it. The contact name is different than he might remember. Not "Charlie" — but "Dad". He smiles as I answer the call.

"Hey Pops, what's up?"

"Well, we have a dilly of a pickle here, Bella. You see, a young man by the name of Tyler was hoping to take you to prom tonight, but I told him you're unavailable tonight. Care to uh," a pause, and then the clear crackle of speakerphone, "care to confirm?"

"Tyler, buddy, I'm MIA tonight. I'm sorry, but it's a no-go on that front. You understand, right?"

"I uh ... well, yeah, I do. I just ..."

"Still feeling guilty?" I wager a guess. His uncomfortable whine answers me directly. "You're sweet, Tyler, but it's a no. Don't let that stop your fun!"

"You're right ... maybe Jessica will want to dance again. See you Monday, Bella!"

"Ta-ta. Love you, Dad."

"I love you too, little witch."

We both hang up and Edward instantly starts guffawing. "Oh, be nice!"

"I am being nice, ma belle. I could make fun, but I'd rather laugh. I think it's cute that he cares so much about what you think." A shadow crosses over Edward's features for a flash, and then he's smiling once more.

I work on getting my pant leg to cooperate with the boot protecting my healing bone when I recognize where Edward is slowly leading us. My blood pressure skyrockets, and I feel the red rushing to my cheeks.

"Y-you're taking me to _PROM_?"

"Surprise!"

Obvious. So obvious. Charlie's sarcastic little "have fun". Alice obsessing about contour and getting my hair to fall perfectly. Rosalie and Esme taking pictures of the two of us, posing on the stairs and even in front of the fireplace. Emmett and Jasper laughing all the while from the kitchen.

I have to say, denial is one Hell of a drug.

My middle finger meets his sightline, and he sticks out his tongue.

"Oh, don't be difficult."

"Why are you doing this to me? You absolute sadist."

"Honestly, what did you think was happening?" He gestures to his tux. "Formal night at the coffee shop?" He looks at me like I've exposed myself to be the biggest idiot this side of the continent. I fall back into the seat and glare at the road ahead of us.

We're already half-way there.

I feel a tear roll down my face and I groan in frustration.

"... are you really so angry about this?"

"Yes! No? Maybe! You know I can't dance, Edward. And people already talk about us, what message is this going to send?" He shrugs, pulling up into the parking lot. "So calm about this, he is. What a douche."

"Bella," he parks and faces me, the full force of his burning ruby eyes hitting me.

"Yeah?"

"Humor me," he unbuckles and turns off the radio, stretching with a soft whine. "Please. You may actually enjoy this. One normal experience for the first time this year."

"Alright, fine." I pout, crossing my arms. "I'll go quietly. But you'll see, you'll all see. Even in these flats, I'll probably break my other leg." I hold out my good leg and wiggle it. "What about the others?"

"Emmett's taking Rose, like always, and Alice will be bachelorette-ing it. Jasper doesn't like crowds, so he's probably breaking out the romcoms right about now." He slides out of his seat and goes to my side, where I refuse to even try to get out by myself.

"I can't believe Dad was in on this."

"Believe it, Bella." He reaches in and helps me stand, staying on my weak side as a crutch. "I'm still in awe at your priorities. Someone even mentions dancing..." he shakes his head, and I gulp. "Hey, nothing's going to hurt you tonight. Not even yourself. Let's get in the gym."

In Phoenix, I'd heard of proms in hotel ballrooms. Chandeliers, fancy decor. Here, it's the gymnasium, covered in balloons, streamers, and those weird rainbow lights that dance everywhere madly, painting the students with streaks of color. I limp along beside Edward, taking it all in with quickly drying eyes.

"Hmm..."

"What is it?"

"I'm keeping an eye out for Carrie is all."

"Ca ..." Edward purses his lips and sighs. "You are addicted to those movies."

Toward the center of the dancefloor, a beautiful couple whirls gracefully. Emmett, his dreadlocks braided down his back, looking stunning in a green and gold velvet tuxedo. And Rosalie, with her pink-kissed hair, looking even more flawless in a vividly — if not violently — scarlet gown, sleeveless and backless. A pair of royals amid teenage gyrations and awkward stumbling.

Off by the snack table, Alice dances in a short flapper dress, black satin a shocking contrast with her ivory skin. She's in heels, moving in ways not even a model could replicate. Honestly, the three of them are sucking at the "passing as human" aspect of it all.

"So many vampires, so little square footage." Edward muses, watching Emmett dip Rosalie.

"Should I bolt the doors? You can massacre the innocents easier that way." He snorts and pulls me closer, his hand starting to shake.

"And where do you fit in this?"

"I'm with the vampires, of course. Anything to get out of dancing."

"Of course," he buys our tickets and turns me toward the dance floor. I dig my heels in. "We have all night you know." I drift, my body starting to _tremble_, vision doubling.

"E-Edward, I really can't dance!" I cough out, my throat feeling like a desert. He sighs softly and turns me toward him, lifting me so my feet are balancing easily atop his.

"But I can, Bella." He says, raising my hands to meet behind his neck. "Just focus on us, ma belle." And now we're whirling. Waltzing. _Dancing_. And I'm vertical, in the arms of a freezing young man, who is looking at me with an expression that dubs me his entire world.

My cheeks heat up for an entirely different reason, and I bite my lip.

"I feel five again," I laugh after a while of dancing. "I used to do this on my own, you know. Before I got hurt."

"Maybe you can regain that skill someday. Until then," he pulls me closer, lifting my feet off the ground for just a moment, "I've got you."

Slowly but surely, Edward and I make our way to the other side of the gym, the open doors in sight. They went out of their way to make this beautiful; roses and fairy lights guide the students to a no doubt rented gazebo in the distance.

Edward's head snaps to the side, eyes searching until familiarity relaxes him.

"Alright, then." He sets me down and leads us outside, just beyond the limits of the prescribed path. "She's yours." I stare until a tall, grinning figure emerges, holding a helmet under her arm. Julie Black, in a long-sleeved gray shirt and a striped tie, swaggers toward us with a skip in her step.

"Can I cut in?" She asks, looking between Edward and I. He offers my hand to her, stepping back as we hug, my face pressing into her shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Bells."

"You too, Jules. How's Billy?"

"A lot better now that the nomads are gone. And Carlisle's donated nurse is a massive help for me." She lets out a soft sob and wipes her eyes. "It's weird, not being his caretaker, but so relieving. Like I've lost 200 pounds off my shoulders."

"I'm glad to hear it," I squeeze her arm and she gives her sunniest smile to me. "Are you here to crash the prom?"

"Not exactly... I got paid $20 to come here and talk to you about something." She looks at my leg and helps me balance until we're sitting at a bench. Edward waves to us from the walk and points to the gym. He's giving us real privacy, with the mess of voices and thoughts in the massive room. I mouth a thanks and turn to Julie.

"What's up?"

"I uh ... first off, you look awesome." Julie raises both thumbs approvingly. I waggle my head and brush it off. "I'm honestly trading this information for that master cylinder I need. The twenty is the down payment." My suspicions rise and I lean into her.

"Is something wrong?"

Julie looks away, ashamed. "Don't get mad, okay?"

"Just say what you have to, there will be no anger toward anyone."

"Good, good. He says, pretty simply, that you need more human friends. He likes the Cullens, don't get me wrong, he's just… Edward concerns him. A lot." She watches my face for some form of reaction. All I can manage is a barked out laugh, holding my stomach until the wave subsides. Julie, meanwhile, is visibly relieved. "I hoped that's what you'd do."

"I appreciate his concern, Julie. I truly do." I look towards the woods, watching the stars dance in the sky. "Maybe he's right... what are you doing over the summer? You and the other teens? I'll remember to swing by."

"I've got nothing, so!" She claps her hands together and laughs triumphantly. "Perfect! Oh, and if you can, bring Esme? I like her." Her eyes flitter to the sky. "Her muffins, Bella. Heavenly."

"I'll be sure to ask."

"You are awesome. Alright, I'll letcha go, for now." She stands and whistles, Edward appearing at our sides instantly and hugging her tight. "Aww! Leech love!" He almost drops her, the pair trading mocking expressions.

"Are you sticking around?" He asks, taking his own corsage and pinning it to her chest. "Alice is inside, all on her own." Julie glances at the gym for a moment, considering, and shakes her head.

"I should get back home. I borrowed this tie from my uncle, anyway." She tosses her helmet in her hands and slips it on. "You two behave yourselves!"

"Never!" We shout back, Edward watching as she vanishes into the forest. Then he laughs.

"Sam Uley was hiding in the woods. He wanted her to seem mystical, but in reality, they rode his dirt bike."

"Friends supporting friends." He nods in agreement and lifts me back onto the lit path with a gentle plop. "So, how much did you hear?"

"Only the last bit, actually. The word 'human' stuck out amongst the chaos inside there." He sneers and glares at the gym. "Hell is paradise compared to a room full of teenagers." I push him back gently and he laughs. "C'mon, let's keep going."

As we go to the gazebo, we pass by our friends. Jessica and Tyler, arm-in-arm as one looks on in approval, and the other slight betrayal. Respectively. Angela and Eric smile at us, waving wildly and clinging to each other with utter glee in their eyes. A few others pass us by, but none pay as much attention as the others. Our footfalls transition from covered grass to wood, clicking in my ears.

Edward looks up, catching the moonlight in his eyes, and sighs. "Perfect. Twilight again. Another ending, and another beginning." I look up at the full moon, the gossamer clouds and dancing birds breaking her light ever so slightly. Edward's face seems to glow in the pale light, bringing out how sharp and hollow his face really is. His mouth is loose, his eyes soft.

"Thank you. For all of this. The adventure, the thrills. The danger. This," I arch my arm around us. "I wouldn't have even gone to prom if it weren't for you." Admitting this isn't as difficult as I'd imagined. Edward even looks touched at my admission.

"If I have my way, you'll have every human experience in peace. Let you see the world though those curious, wide eyes and with that beating heart." He lays a hand over my shoulder, our eyes still locked on the moon. "I know it's stupid, but I want you to have everything I lost in 1920."

"Even death?" I offer, and his grip tightens on my shirt.

"... if that's what you want, yes."

"You sound like you're considering alternatives already." I snort, looking at him. His eyes are downcast, head angled away from me. "... if I would have survived, would you all have let me turn? Become like you."

"I don't know. I would have wanted to, and Carlisle would have preferred it to letting you die. That's ... that's how he made our family. People dead before their time. But Alice showed me what you said, about how you wouldn't want to be a vampire as a teenager. Another reason for Carlisle to be the one to get the venom out."

"Not because you still drink human blood, but because of hesitance." I draw the conclusion, and his head sinks further down. "For what it's worth, I wouldn't have been mad. I won't lie, becoming a vampire seems absolutely horrific. But at the same time, all the things I could do. Could see. Could learn, experience."

"I wouldn't want this for you, not in a million years."

"Well, good thing it's my choice, not yours." Edward searches my face for something. Whatever he finds, he smiles at it, and he offers his hand. "Another dance?" I take it, watching him pull out a pair of earbuds and giving one tiny speaker each.

He pulls me closer as the song from the radio plays just for us. I lay my cheek on his chest, letting us spin slowly, my eyes drifting shut as the rhythm of our motion and the beat of the song lull me. His voice enters the song, humming the music and singing the lyrics, melting perfectly into the track.

"... Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"I never got the chance to thank you, for bringing the sun back into my life. So ... thank you. For ending my midnight." I laugh softly, looking up at him.

"If I am your sun, are you my moon?"

"If you want me to be, then yes." He presses his forehead to mine. Then slowly, surely, his lips meet my cheek. I cling to him, my blush no doubt very visible to him. I don't ask, he won't bring it up. We don't want to ruin this.

In our little bubble, there is no fear. No daylight. No twilight. No divide between our kinds.

Just Bella and Edward. Edward and Bella.

And the little piece of his forever that will always belong to me.


End file.
